A Study in Patience
by Sherlockian87
Summary: Molly falls ill, and Sherlock takes it upon himself to provide the twenty-four hour care she requires. What ensues? Why, slow-burn to smut of course ;)
1. The Benefits of Working at Barts

**At long last! I'm finally sharing this with everyone :D**

 **I have been working away, off and on with this fic since May.**

 **It is one of those that my brain decided to throw me and refused to leave it alone until I started to write it.**

 **For some odd reason, I didn't want to start posting it until I had it written in full.**

 **This will be 10 chapters long, and I am going to drag it out by not posting them all at once, HEHE!**

 **Anwyay ... enjoy :)**

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Part One - The Benefits of working at Barts

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It had started out as a simple stomach ache, nothing too horrible, more annoying than painful. Molly decided to skip breakfast and settle for only a cup of tea. The pain faded off a bit, but by the time she arrived at Barts she was beginning to feel slightly nauseous. She got another cup of tea and forced herself to ignore the storm that was beginning to rage inside of her stomach. Perhaps it was just a warning of her approaching menses.

She had always prided herself on her work ethic. She was very devoted to her job, and never left her work half-finished or incomplete just because she had reached the end of her shift. But now she was silently cursing herself and her determination to work through the pain. All she had to do was go to her boss and tell him that she didn't feel well and he would send her directly home. He was a wonderful boss, and had on several occasions told her to take the rest of the day off when he knew she wasn't feeling well. She had never opted to ask him herself, she always waited until she was told (more or less forced) to go home.

Continuing to ignore the roll and swell in her belly, Molly pulled on a pair of gloves and turned about to face the examination table. That was a bad idea. The room began to spin; she couldn't find a spot to focus on. She stumbled forward, her palms hitting the table, steadying her slightly. Her ears felt as if they were stuffed with cotton, the sound of the morgue doors opening trickled faintly in.

"Molly?"

The deep voice sounded to her as if she were underwater. The room was tilting now, why could she suddenly see the ceiling?

"MOLLY!"

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The next thing she heard was something beeping. Her head hurt, and her stomach felt rather odd. There was also a strange sort of pressure on her hand. Not uncomfortable, or painful, just strange. Her eyelids felt as if there were lead weights holding them down. She struggled to blink, to open her eyes. When she finally managed to do so, it was to a darkened room. She tried to move her head to the side, but found that to be rather difficult, so she accepted defeat for the moment and allowed her eyes to slowly drift around the room.

What happened? Why was she here? It was clear to her, in spite of the darkness that she was still at Barts but now in one of their rooms, in one of their beds. Ever so slowly it started coming back to her. She remembered feeling unwell, but that she still came to work. She remembered being in the morgue, and that she was getting ready to take out a body. That was when things became a bit fuzzy. What had happened after that? _Oh_. She must have fainted.

The pressure on her hand abated slightly, pulling her back to the present. She dropped her gaze down to the bed. Her eyes met the back of a dark head of curls that was lying beside her hand. The pressure she had been feeling was his fingers clasping hers.

"Sherlock?" Her voice did not sound like her own. It was course, raspy, unused.

The head of curls stirred, rolling to the side. His eyes opened slowly, he blinked several times before his head shot up. "You're awake! I should call the nurse. John told me I should call the nurse if you woke up." He moved to get to his feet but Molly stopped him.

"No. Don't, not yet. It can wait a minute or two. Please, don't go." She had turned her hand so that they were now palm to palm, and she was holding onto him as tightly as she could manage.

He settled himself back down in his chair, staring down at their clasped hands.

"What-what happened?" she asked him, her voice shaking.

Sherlock sighed, running his free hand through his curls. "Your appendix ruptured and you-you lost consciousness." He kept his gaze locked onto their hands.

"Oh. Why does my head hurt?"

"You fell, just as John and I entered the morgue. I couldn't get to you quickly enough; you hit your head on the edge of the examination table." He inhaled slowly, and it was only then that she fully realized how distressed he appeared to be.

"Sherlock? It's all right, I'm ok."

He looked up at her. The rims of his eyes were tinted red.

"I'm ok," she repeated.

He took in a shaky breath before slowly releasing it. "Molly, there's a reason I seem like a machine, that I put on a front and that I act as if I have no concept of what feelings and emotions are. The truth is, I know them far too well. When I was seven my dog Redbeard, my one and only true friend, got sick and had to be put to sleep. I was devastated. I promised myself that I would never become emotionally attached to anything or anyone ever again, because I didn't want to experience that pain of ... loss." He took in another shaky breath, his gaze having fallen back down to the bed. "Seeing you, lying on the ground like that - looking as if you were -" He shook his head, unable to speak the word. "I very rarely experience fear Molly, not since I was a little boy, but seeing you like that, I've never felt so afraid. I was terrified that I was going to lose you, _forever_. I don't know what I would have done if John hadn't been there. My mind, it just, shut down completely. I didn't want to stop holding you-" his voice cracked.

"Sherlock."

He took in yet another shaky breath before slowly raising his eyes to meet hers.

"Come here. Lie with me?" She gave his hand a slight tug.

His eyes dropped from hers and trailed over her body, hesitating over her stomach. "But your stitches."

"Please?"

Without another word he stood up. He toed off his shoes and slowly climbed onto the bed. He stretched himself out alongside her, cradling her hand to his chest. She turned her head until they were nose to nose, their eyes locking. She slowly brought up her other hand, careful not to disrupt the tubes, her movements sluggish. Ever so gently she ran her fingertips across his cheek. He leaned into her hand, closing his eyes as she moved her fingers into his hair.

"Sherlock." Her voice was barely above a whisper now.

His eyes opened. She could feel the tension in his body beginning to ebb away.

"Kiss me."

He may have hesitated when she asked him to join her on the bed, but he did not do so now. He slid his hand to the back of her neck, pressing his lips to hers. She sighed into his mouth, nudging him with her tongue, desperate to deepen the kiss. Several minutes passed in pleasant silence.

She didn't need him to explain, to tell her why it had taken him so long to admit that he was in love with her. She could read him like an open book; she was the only one that had that ability. She had known, she had seen it in his eyes, and sensed it in his actions. He had taken so much care in making sure that Moriarty couldn't get his hands on her when he had made his return. He had made Mycroft keep her hidden, safely tucked away, in a tiny little remote village in Italy. She had known then but she wasn't going to be the one to call him out on it. She was willing to wait until he was able to do so himself. Molly had of course, not quite expected it to happen like this. But she was happy, nevertheless, that it had at last taken place.

They parted, both of them breathing rather heavily. He smiled at her, and she quickly smiled too. He gave her another gentle kiss before he sat up.

"As much as I want nothing more than to continue kissing you, I'm certain that John will have my head if I don't let the doctor know that you are awake," Sherlock said to her. He pressed his lips to her forehead before slowly slipping off of the bed.

Molly was frowning slightly, already missing his warmth, as he bent over to put his shoes back on. He straightened and leaned forward to now press his lips to hers.

"I'll be right back." He strode from the room, only to return a minute or so later with a tall, lean man in a white lab coat. Molly recognized him straight away.

"Doctor Wheaton! Hello."

He smiled at her. "Hello Molly. How are you feeling?"

"My head hurts quite a bit, and my stomach feels a bit off," she told him.

Doctor Wheaton stepped closer to the IV drip and pressed the button to raise the level. "This should help with that. If the pain becomes unbearable you can use this button here to increase the morphine." He walked back over to the foot of her bed. "You suffered a minor concussion, and were given emergency surgery to remove your appendix. You're a very lucky woman, Molly. If it had not been for the quick action of Dr. Watson, you would be a lot worse off right now."

She could see out of the corner of her eye that Sherlock had clenched his hands into fists. "How soon will I be able to go home?" she asked the doctor.

"I would like to keep you here for at least two more days, just to keep an eye on your stitches and to make sure there aren't any complications from your concussion. I don't think that there will be, but it is better to be safe than sorry," he explained to her, giving a brief glance at his clipboard.

Molly nodded. "All right."

"When you do go home you will need twenty-four hour care. It would be unwise for you to be alone during the healing process." His eyes glanced towards Sherlock who had stood off to the side, before returning to Molly. "We can provide you with a nurse-"

Sherlock's voice cut in, "That will not be necessary."

Both Dr. Wheaton and Molly looked at him. His hands were still clenched in fists. Molly took in a breath before turning back to the doctor.

"Thank you, Dr. Wheaton."

The man nodded, side-eyeing Sherlock for a moment before saying to her, "You should try and get some more rest. I'll come back in the morning and have a look at your bandages." He left, closing the door behind him. The silence in the room was deafening.

Molly tilted her head to the side. "Sherlock," she spoke his name softly, watching as the tightness in his shoulders lessened and his hands unclenched.

He turned towards her, quickly moving closer to the bed. "You trust him. That's why I forced myself to hold back," he said in answer to her unasked question.

She lifted her hand, reaching for him. He took it, dropping down into the chair. He brought her hand to his lips.

"You heard what he said though, 'If it had not been for the quick action of Dr. Watson, you would be a lot worse off right now.' Am I really so useless? I could have just sat there and allowed you to die!"

"SHERLOCK."

He stopped, raising his eyes to meet hers. Her expression was fierce.

"You would have not allowed me to die. I know that you wouldn't have. John is a medical man, you are not; his training and instincts kicked in. You are not useless. Please don't feel guilty; I'm glad you were there to hold me. And even though I was unconscious, I am sure that somewhere inside, I knew that you were there with me."

He leaned forward and kissed her. She lifted up her free hand and placed it on the back of his head.

"Why won't I be in need of a nurse?" she asked when he pulled away. She was smiling, certain that she knew the answer.

His expression mirrored hers. "Because, you will be staying at Baker Street for the duration of your convalescence," he explained. He hesitated for a moment. "And I hope even after." He swallowed, his gaze drifting to the corner of the pillow. Her hand shifted from the back of his head to his jaw line, making his gaze return to her.

She was still smiling. "How about we just see how the convalescing goes, hmmm?"

"Ok."

They stared silently into each other's eyes for several moments.

"Toby is already at my flat. He's taken a liking to my chair."

Molly giggled. "Has he now?"

"Yes. The feline will not though, be allowed in the bedroom." Sherlock dropped his head back down and kissed her.

She laughed against his lips. "Stay? Please?"

He nodded. "I'm not going anywhere." He stood and once more toed off his shoes before stretching himself out alongside her.

"I don't even know what time it is," she said to him.

He glanced down at his watch. "It is nearing three in the morning."

"How long have I been out for?"

Sherlock shifted himself a bit closer to her. "Since the day before yesterday." He nuzzled at her shoulder.

"You look exhausted."

He glanced up at her. "I don't need sleep."

"Yes you do."

His eyes narrowed.

"How can I expect you to be able to take care of me, if you can't even take care of yourself?"

He let out a huff, but otherwise stayed silent.

"Get some rest, and I will too."

He shifted again, so that he could lay his head down on the pillow. She smiled, reaching up to brush back a few of the curls that had fallen across his forehead. He took her hand in his and kissed the palm, her smile widening. She wanted nothing more than to be able to lie on her side and curl into him, but at that moment that just was not possible. She leaned her head towards his, until their foreheads touched. She let her eyes drop closed, and with a smile still upon her lips, she fell asleep.

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 **And there we have it! Chapter one :D**

 **What do you think? Have I caught your interest?! ;)**

 **Please let me know if I should add any sort of trigger warnings/etc. at the beginning. I didn't go into detail or anything, but I don't want to upset anyone :-/**

 **And I'm probably going to be taking some serious medical licenses ... is that the correct wording? Anyway, I'm not going to be perfectly medically accurate, and that's really not the point ... the point is Sherlock taking care of Molly ;D**

 **Also, as always, please leave a review I drink them and eat them right up! :D**


	2. Baker Street Arrival

**Woop woop! Here it is, part two! :D**

 **Enjoy :)**

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Part Two - Baker Street Arrival

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Sherlock had scheduled their arrival at Baker Street at a convenient time. A convenient time, meaning that Mrs. Hudson was out. Molly was in fact grateful for this, not exactly wanting to be fussed over by the sweet, older woman. It was quite enough to be fussed over by Sherlock.

They slowly walked into the building. He had his arm around her shoulders, making sure that she stayed upright. Molly wasn't in pain and could easily walk on her own, but she didn't say anything, rather enjoying the closeness to him. The doctor had told her to take it carefully when she moved about, at least until the stitches began to dissolve. As they approached the bottom of the stairs Molly came to a standstill. Sherlock looked down at her.

"Are you all right?"

She let out a slow breath. "Yeah. Just mentally preparing myself for this, that's all."

His hand on her shoulder tightened slightly. "I can carry you up."

"No. I need to do this, to start building up my strength."

"We'll just take it slowly then."

She nodded.

"You ready?"

"Yes."

They began their leisurely trek up the stairs. A few times they stopped so that she could catch her breath. When they at last entered 221B she let out a relieved sigh. Toby meowed loudly, running towards them and he began to purr as he rubbed up against her legs. Molly let out a soft chuckle, wishing that she could bend over to pet him. Sherlock helped her off with her coat and scarf before removing his own. She made her way towards the sofa, Toby following closely at her heels, Sherlock even closer. He helped her to ease down onto the cushion. She then stretched herself out and sighed again, happy to be out of hospital. Toby jumped onto the sofa and proceeded to curl himself up on her legs, continuing to purr. She smiled at him then tilted her head back to look up at Sherlock.

"Tea?" she asked him.

He nodded. "Tea." He made his way into the kitchen.

As Sherlock puttered about, Molly closed her eyes rather surprised by how exhausted she felt. The stairs had taken more out of her than she expected. She began to pet Toby, the sound of his purring lulling her to sleep. Minutes (or was it hours?) later, Sherlock was nudging her awake.

"It's time for your pills," he told her, holding them out in his hand. In the other hand he was holding her cup of tea. She moved to sit up but he told her to wait. "You shouldn't strain yourself."

He set down the pills and cup before slipping his arm beneath her, and helping her into a seated position, keeping his arm around her shoulders. She leaned into him, pressing her lips to his jaw line. He smiled, turning his head so that their mouths could meet. She smiled up at him. He kissed her again before he took up the cup and pills. She silently swallowed them and drank her tea.

"Do you want something to eat?" he asked her.

She shook her head. "Not at the moment, maybe in a little while."

He took her empty cup and placed it on the coffee table. "Are you in any pain?"

"No. I'm just tired."

"Do you want to lie down on the bed?"

"No. I've been in a bed for nearly five days straight! Right here is fine for now, just as long as you lie with me."

He smiled. "Of course!" He quickly removed his shoes then stretched out his legs. He helped Molly to lie back before he settled himself beside her.

Toby had picked up his head, annoyed with all of the movement, sending a glare in Sherlock's direction. Molly laughed, scratching the feline behind his ears and he started to purr once more. Sherlock moved onto his side, carefully draping his arm over her, directly beneath her breasts. She let out a sigh when he started to nuzzle her neck.

"I'm in desperate need of a wash, but mmm ... nap first," she said to him, her eyes closing.

"I'll be more than happy to help you with the _washing_. You'll need someone with you, might be slippery." He gave her earlobe the tiniest of nibbles.

She giggled then turned her head so that she could kiss him fully on the mouth. "It might be very, very slippery!"

They laughed together then quieted down. He settled his head on her shoulder, closing his eyes.

"Sherlock?"

"Yes?"

"This is so much better than when you were using my flat as a bolt hole."

He chuckled, turning his head to nip at her skin through the fabric of her t-shirt. "I agree."

The three of them slept the afternoon away, not waking until it was beginning to grow dark outside. As Molly began to stir, Sherlock woke up. Toby had long ago jumped down from the sofa and proceeded to sprawl himself out on Sherlock's chair. The beast (as Sherlock had come to call him) was twisted and contorted in such a way as only a cat could. Molly yawned loudly, wishing she could stretch her arms out over her head. Sherlock sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"What is that delicious smell?" she asked, sniffing the air.

Sherlock smiled knowingly. "Mrs. Hudson's cooking. She must be home now." He jumped to his feet and strode into the kitchen. "She made us dinner!" he called out, quickly followed by, "Don't try and sit up on your own Molly!"

She huffed, and lay back down, having not even made it halfway. He walked back into the room and helped her to her feet.

"Do you want to eat in the kitchen?" he asked her.

"Yes."

He put his arm around her.

"Sherlock, I had surgery on my stomach, not my legs! I can walk."

Instead of letting go of her, he tightened his hold. "Better to be safe than sorry!"

She snorted. "That's rich; coming from Mr. 'the body is only transport!'"

He let out an annoyed huff. "Your body is not." He pressed a kiss to her temple, leading her to the table. He pulled out a chair and she lowered her self down into it.

"What did Mrs. Hudson make?" she asked him.

Sherlock strode over to the pot that was sitting on the hob. He lifted the lid and peered inside. "Chicken soup!" he told her.

"Oh lovely!

"She gave us some bread as well." He opened a nearby cabinet and took out two bowls, followed by two spoons from one of the drawers.

Molly was occupying herself with looking around. "I don't think I've ever seen this kitchen so spotless!"

He cleared his throat. "Yes well, ahh-John and Mrs. Hudson helped me to clean."

She let out a noise that made it very clear she was unconvinced, he looked at her over his shoulder and she gave him a crooked smile. "You mean they cleaned and you spluttered and fumed over the fact that they were throwing away your _experiments_."

He humphed and turned back to the counter and began to slice the bread. She propped her elbow on the table, and leaned her head on her hand. Sherlock suddenly quickly spun about and faced her, causing her to jump slightly.

"What?" he asked her. "What is it?"

She blushed slightly. "It's just odd, that's all, watching you do something like this." She spanned her hand out in front of her. "It's so ... normal."

His nose crinkled, and she couldn't help but find it adorable.

"I never thought of you as being the domestic type," she said to him with a shrug.

He stepped closer to her, leaning down slightly. "I never thought of myself as the falling in love type. But here I am, in love with you. Life is full of surprises!"

She bit back a laugh, instead opting to grab the sides of his face and pull him down to her for a passionate kiss. He dropped to his knees, gently hugging her to him as he returned the kiss. When they parted a few minutes later he leaned his forehead against hers, the pair of them breathing rather heavily.

"Oh, I can get used to this!" she murmured, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

He smiled. "Good. Because so can I!" He gave her a light peck on the lips before he stood, returning to dishing out the soup. Once he had done so he carried the bowls to the table, each with a slice of bread. He sat down next to her, placing a kiss directly before her jaw line before delving into his soup. They ate quietly for a time, settling in to a comfortable silence.

"For not being your housekeeper, she does take very good care of you!" Molly noted as Sherlock spooned out for her a second helping.

He let out a huff. "Mrs. Hudson made this for you Molly, not for me!" He settled himself back in his chair.

She smiled. "And yet she brings you your tea every morning, does your laundry, and cleans your flat."

He paused with his spoon halfway to his lips. "She does do all that, doesn't she?"

Molly nodded, breaking off a piece of her bread. "Yes, she does. As well as dealing with you spray painting and shooting up her wall when you're having a strop! Not to mention you playing your violin at three in the morning."

Sherlock had put down his spoon and was now frowning. She noticed this and quickly swallowed.

"But I know deep down she enjoys it, she likes taking care of you, she would have thrown you out long ago if she hadn't. And I-I can only hope that I can take as good care of you, as she has." Molly dropped her hands into her lap, staring down at them.

"You already have."

Her eyes shot up, meeting his.

"Multiple times," he continued. "Molly, you've saved my life. Twice. As well as John's, Lestrade's and Mrs. Hudson's. If anyone should be worried about their capabilities about caring for someone, it should be me."

"You are more than capable, Sherlock. You've done so brilliantly already." She reached up and cupped the side of his face in her hand.

He leaned into her touch, closing his eyes. "I suppose that's why we are so perfect for each other." He paused for moment, opening his eyes to stare directly into hers. "Your life would be utterly boring without me in it, and my life ... my entire existence, depends solely on you."

She gave a soft snort. "I suppose I can't deny the fact that a life without you would be very boring ... but seriously Sherlock, who are you and what have you done with The World's Only Consulting Detective?"

He chuckled. "You have ruined me, Molly Hooper." He tugged her carefully towards him before drowning her in a passion-filled kiss. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and whimpered against his lips, wishing that they could do far more than just kissing. She felt him sigh, then he gently pushed her away. Her heart gave a slight jolt when she took notice of his dilated pupils.

"Molly." His voice was hoarse and deep, he swallowed thickly. "I think we best stop that now. If we don't, I may not be able to control myself."

She smiled slightly. "It's nice to know that you want me as much as I want you." She slowly slid her hand down his chest, reaching his stomach. "Do you want me to...?" she trailed off, just as her hand was about to touch the considerable tent that had formed in his trousers.

He grabbed her hand before it could reach its destination. "No. You don't have to."

"Save that for another time?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. She couldn't help but smile widely when a faint blush filled his cheeks.

He swallowed thickly once more, causing her to giggle. He glared at her. "You're not helping."

She clamped her hand over her mouth. "Sorry!"

He rolled his eyes and stood up, albeit a bit stiffly. He cleared his throat before taking their bowls and bringing them to the sink. "Do you want to shower now?" he asked her, returning to the table.

"No. I need to rest a little bit more first, let the food set in. I hate feeling this tired!"

Sherlock grabbed a pill bottle off of the counter. "It's time for you to take these." He opened the bottle and shook out two pills onto his hand. He handed it to her after filling up a glass with water.

"Back to the sofa?" he asked, and she nodded. He helped her to stand then they walked back into the sitting room. She let out a contented sigh as she stretched herself out across the cushions, closing her eyes. Sherlock quickly followed, tucking himself against her. They lay like this, for some time.

He had always hated the quiet, but now he found himself rather enjoying it. When she suddenly made a face of discomfort, he propped himself up on his elbow.

"How are you feeling?"

She opened her eyes. "Not too awful. A little sore. Every once in a while I feel a slight pinch."

He rubbed his hand up and down her arm. "You're starting to already heal."

She made a noise of agreement. He dropped his head down, nuzzling her neck.

"Sherlock?"

"Mmmm?" His mouth was busy leaving a mark upon her skin where her neck met her shoulder.

"Are those my books, on your bookshelf?"

He picked up his head and glanced over his shoulder. "Ahh, yes." He turned back to look at her.

"You're really serious about me moving in here, aren't you?"

"Yes. But that's not the only reason why I brought them here. You have several weeks ahead of you to recover; I thought it would be best for you to have some of your own reading material."

She smiled up at him. "Thank you. What else of mine did you bring?"

"The majority of your wardrobe, your toiletries and feminine essentials." He dropped his head back down, mouthing at her throat. "Your dildo I did not."

"SHERLOCK!"

He chuckled, nipping at her jaw line.

"Arse!" She gave the back of his head a smack with her hand.

His chest vibrated against her as he laughed. "You will not be having any need for it," he told her matter-of-factly.

She groaned in frustration. " _You're_ not making this any easier!"

"Sorry," he mumbled.

She sighed. "I think I'm ready for that shower."

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 **Heh heh heh ... Sherlock is such a cheeky git :D**

 **Enjoying it? Please let me know!**

 **Part three will either be posted Monday or Tuesday!**


	3. Slippery When Wet

**Hmmmm ... shower time!**

 **What's going to be taking place here?**

 **HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE!**

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Part Three - Slippery When Wet

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They were now stood in the bathroom, facing each other. Neither one of them had begun to undress. Molly knew that she shouldn't think of this as an erotic act, but she couldn't help herself. She took a step closer to him, feeling the blush burning in her cheeks. She lifted her hand up to toy with one of the buttons on his shirt.

"I think what we are planning to do requires the removal of clothes?" she asked him. She glanced coyly upwards, through her lashes.

He swallowed thickly. "I believe that is the best way."

She undid one of his buttons, then another. When she slipped her hand beneath the fabric, pressing her palm to the place directly over his heart, she could feel its dancing rhythm. Like a Pachanga or a Samba. He leaned into her touch, his eyes falling closed.

"You can remove mine, if you like," she said to him.

His eyes snapped open, boring into hers. She smiled widely. He dropped his hands to her hips, slipping his fingers beneath the hem of her t-shirt. She allowed her arms to fall to her sides. He slowly lifted the shirt, helping her to move her arms through the openings so that she didn't raise them too high. He dropped the shirt to the floor. Now she was stood in only her bra and loose, cotton trousers. His eyes trailed very briefly over her chest, taking in the plain white fabric, before slipping further downwards to the narrow incision on her belly. Her stomach was slightly extended, bloated, and there was still a faint bit of blood around the wound.

"Doctor Wheaton told me that I could get it wet, but to wash the area very gently, with only a little bit of soap," Molly explained softly.

Sherlock nodded, dragging his gaze back upwards to meet hers. "I seem to be entirely overdressed for this occasion."

She let out a soft chuckle then proceeded to finish undoing the rest of the buttons of his shirt. She pushed the fabric down off of his shoulders. He undid the cuffs and allowed the shirt to join hers on the floor. Keeping her gaze locked on his, she reached behind and undid her bra clasp. The cups fell away and she slipped off the straps, it too now falling to the floor. Sherlock's eyes had widened and his breath hitched slightly. Molly's cheeks were burning, but she managed to keep her gaze fixed on his. He swallowed and took a step closer to her, his eyes repeatedly flitting down to her newly-revealed chest, then back up to her eyes.

He swallowed. "Molly I-I find that I must-I must retract all negative statements I have ever made about your breasts."

The fact that he stumbled over his words was enough to make her smile. "You can touch them if you like. I don't mind."

He slowly raised his hands, gently pressing his palms to her soft flesh.

"Oh God!" she gasped out, her eyes falling closed as he tilted his hands to cup her breasts more efficiently, brushing his thumbs across her already distended nipples. She whimpered, arching her back slightly to press herself against his hands. He began to massage them, watching fascinated by the reaction his ministrations were creating.

"Sherlock!" her voice was barely above a whisper. "Please!"

His hands instantly dropped away and he stepped back. Her eyes flew open, meeting his.

"Molly, no! We can't! I don't want to hurt you. Dr. Wheaton said no strenuous activity and THAT is definitely a strenuous activity."

Her shoulders slumped in defeat. "Perhaps I should shower alone."

"No. You're not showering alone! We'll manage, somehow."

She snorted. "Will we?" She gave a nod towards his very prominent erection.

He humphed. "I was just fondling your breasts, what other sort of reaction do you expect?"

"Oh don't think that I'm not pleased, it's wonderful to have physical proof that The World's Only Consulting Detective is not a machine, but very much so a man!"

He rolled his eyes. "Ha ha very funny. Shall we get on with the actual showering bit?"

"Will you be able to get your trousers off, around that?" She gave another obvious nod. "Or will you require assistance?"

He hesitated momentarily. "Some, ahh, assistance would be nice."

She smiled broadly and took a step closer to him. He watched with slightly widened eyes, and a racing heart, as she slowly undid the button and zip. She was tempted to slip her hand into the opening and give his hardening cock a squeeze, but decided not to. Instead she slipped her hands beneath his trousers, alongside of his hips and pushed down. The fabric slowly fell to the floor, and he quickly stepped out of them when his trousers pooled at his ankles. Now he was left wearing only his grey pants, having long ago removed his shoes and socks. He reached out, placing his hands on her waist, thinking it only fair that they should become undressed equally.

He gave her soft cotton trousers a slight tug, pulling them down passed her hips. Once they hit mid-thigh they fell to the floor. She mirrored his actions and stepped out of them, not remotely embarrassed by the wet patch that had formed at the front of her knickers. Sherlock swallowed thickly and stepped back from her once more.

"You _can_ touch me, I'm not made of glass," she said to him, her tone faintly indignant.

"Touching can lead to other things, Molly."

With a frustrated sigh she pushed down her knickers, kicked them off to the side and strode towards the shower. She slid the door open and stepped in, hesitating, waiting to see if he would follow her before she turned the water on. Follow her he did, his pants now removed.

He slid the door shut behind him. Molly stood with her back to him, not reaching to turn on the water. He stepped up behind her, slipping his arm about her so that it rested directly below her breasts, carefully avoiding her incision. He traced the shell of her ear with his lips.

"Please Molly. Please don't think that I don't want you. I do, I want you so badly. But I also don't want to hurt you."

She ran her hand over his arm. "I know. I'm just being silly. I'm not accustomed to having to think like this, to personally deal with something like this. It's frustrating."

Sherlock gently kissed the side of her neck. "We'll just have to deal with it, we have no choice. The most important thing is for you to get better."

Molly sighed again. "Yes. I suppose you are right."

"I am right."

She rolled her eyes as he let go of her to turn on the water. It slowly cascaded down them as Sherlock fiddled with the temperature; once he got it to a comfortable heat he put his arm back around her.

"Are we just going to stand beneath the water?" she asked him after a couple of moments passed.

"For a minute or so, yes."

She laughed. "What on earth for?"

He shrugged. "Don't know really, it just feels nice."

She laughed again. "Can I at least face you?"

He nudged her forward a bit more than loosened his hold on her. She slowly turned about, realizing that he had moved them so that he was blocking the spray of the water. She smiled up at him.

He suddenly looked a bit sheepish. "Ahh, Molly, there's something I think I should tell you..."

Her eyes narrowed. "What? What is it?"

"This isn't the first time that I've seen you naked."

"WHAT?!"

He sighed, stepping a bit closer to her so that he could look directly into her eyes. Oh yes, there was quite a bit of anger there.

"When?" she demanded.

"Uhm, that night after your failed date with Roger, when you came home and had a bath."

Her eyes were flaming. "There were other times, weren't there?"

The tips of his ears tinged pink. "Twice more."

"SHERLOCK!"

He grimaced slightly at her shrill tone. "It was never intentionally done, it just sort of ... happened."

"ARSE!"

He smirked. "Yes, you did give me a good eyeful of that a few times!"

"Sherlock!"

His smirk widened as he leaned in closer to her. "Admit it; you're not as upset as you are pretending to be."

She huffed and beat his chest with her fists. "That is entirely unfair! You twat!"

He grabbed her hands. "Unfair? What do you mean by that?"

She let out another huff. "Why did you get to see me naked and I never got to see you?"

He smirked. "Well I'm naked now."

She smiled widely. "That you most certainly are."

His eyes widened to a nearly comical size when she suddenly pulled her hand away from his in order to wrap her fingers around his hard length. "MOLLY!" he choked out. He placed his hand on top of hers and moved to pull her away.

"Sherlock, don't."

He stopped and looked at her.

"I can at least do this. It's not entirely strenuous ... please? I know you want me to, you need the release. You're practically pulsing in my hand."

A shudder ran through his body when she brushed her thumb over the head of his cock. He gave a silent nod, dropping his hand away from hers. A loud groan erupted from his throat as she began to slowly pump him. He dropped his forehead to her shoulder, his hips rolling slightly with the movements of her fingers on him.

"Sherlock!" she whimpered, after a few moments. "Please?"

He lifted up his head and their eyes met. He knew exactly what she was asking of him.

"If you won't. Then I will," her tone was a determined one.

His eyes widened once again, his pupils having dilated to such a point that they were nearly solid black. Without another moments hesitation he gently moved her towards the shower wall and once he was certain that she was settled comfortably (her hand having never left his cock) he slipped his fingers between her folds. She was slick with her juices, and it made his chest fill with pride at the thought that it was he that had created such a result. Her head fell back against the tile, her mouth parting as she let out a moan. Her grip on his cock tightened ever so slightly, causing him to let out a muffled curse. His fingertip found its desired destination, moving over her clit in swift circles. He switched his fingertip with the pad of his thumb so that he could slide first one, then two fingers into her beckoning core.

"Oh God, Sherlock! Fuck!"

He slowly filled her with his fingers, sliding them in and out of her repeatedly as he dragged his thumb over her clit. Her eyes were squeezed shut, moans continuing to escape from between her lips. She dropped her hand away from his cock, only to cup his bollocks and give them a tender squeeze. He cursed loudly as she wrapped her fingers around his length once more. With her other hand she gripped tightly onto his elbow as he continued to fuck her with his fingers. She felt so warm, and soft, and wet. He was desperate to be able to bury his cock inside of her, and he knew that it would be worth the wait.

He let out another groan as he felt the all-too-telling tightening in his groin. He gasped out her name, and she quickened the pace of her hand. He gave her clit three more swipes with his thumb and she was crying out, her walls clamping onto his fingers. The thought of her coming around his cock was what sent him over the edge. His seed spread across her hip bone, slowly drifting downwards. He dropped his head to her shoulder, and was now panting heavily. She reached down and gently eased his fingers from her, when she brought them up to her mouth, covered with her juices, he watched with widened eyes and parted lips as she sucked them clean.

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 **heh ... :)**


	4. Three is a Crowd

**Heh heh ... I have a feeling many of you enjoyed that last chapter!**

 **But I must tell you that alas there be no smut in this chapter ... perhaps though there will be in the next one ;)**

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Part Four - Three is a Crowd

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Once they both had somewhat recovered from their rendezvous against the shower wall, they managed to clean themselves up and were now lying side by side on Sherlock's bed, beneath the sheets. Molly didn't want to exactly admit it, but she was exhausted. She had never thought that having an orgasm would drain so much of her resources. She was desperate to have his cock buried deep inside of her, but she knew now that what Sherlock had said was right; they needed to wait until she was fully healed.

He was curled up next to her; she could feel his warm, flaccid penis nestled against her hip. He was nuzzling her neck, murmuring something incoherent. Her eyes had dropped closed almost as soon as she had lain down, but she had yet to fall asleep.

"I always thought that sleeping naked was a mere convenience, but now I have a deeper appreciation for the act," Sherlock said to her suddenly.

She laughed softly, turning her head to the side so that their lips could meet. His thumb brushed up against the soft underside of her right breast as he draped his arm across her. He wanted to put his mouth on her, take between his lips the soft little buds of her nipples; he wanted to know what her skin tasted like. But not tonight, he knew that it could not be tonight.

Molly smiled against his lips. "I find that I must repeat my previous statement, this is _so_ much better than when you were using my flat as a bolt hole."

Sherlock hummed in agreement, returning to nuzzling her neck. Molly tilted her head to the side so that he could put his lips to better use. They kissed quietly for a few moments then Sherlock laid his head down upon her chest.

"Go to sleep Molly, you need as much rest as you can get," he told her.

"All right. I am rather tired; I think it was the showering that did it."

He snorted. "You don't think it was what we did before the actual showering?"

She could feel him smirking against her skin, she reached up and gave his curls a slight tug and he chuckled.

Minutes passed in silence, and yet Molly hadn't fallen asleep.

"Sherlock?"

He grunted slightly. "Mmm, what?"

"Four weeks ago, when you stayed over, that -ahh- the next morning, did you purposely have your hand on my breast or did that just ... sort of happen?"

He sighed into her skin. "You had to bring that up, didn't you?"

She laughed softly and he picked up his head and looked down at her; he was scowling. She bit down on her bottom lip to prevent herself from laughing more. "Well?"

He rolled his eyes. "No. I did not purposely grope you that was entirely an accident." He dropped his head back down.

Molly was smiling as she carded her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. "Perhaps it was your subconscious trying to tell you to make a move!"

He humphed. "I move at my own pace, thank you very much."

She dug her nails ever so slightly into his scalp. "You mean a sloths?"

He let out a low growl, his chest vibrating against her. She giggled, rather enjoying riling him up.

"Two can play at this game, Dr. Hooper!" He lifted up his head once more and gave her a cheeky smirk. "If I were to tell you the amount of times you openly ogled my arse, it would be quite a number!"

She was glaring at him and had opened her mouth to give a retort when suddenly a loud purr forced them to pull apart. The pair of them peered down at the end of the bed, where Toby sat, eyeing them both suspiciously. Sherlock groaned and dropped down onto the pillow, moving his arm off of her as the feline made his way up towards them, bumping his head against Molly's hand as she held it out.

"He sleeps with you at night, doesn't he?" Sherlock asked.

"Mmm, yeah, most nights."

He rolled his eyes. "Fantastic. I suppose he'd cry at the door if I chucked him out and closed it?"

"Sherlock! He hasn't been around me for a bit, the poor thing has missed me."

He scoffed, but managed to keep silent, eyeing the cat with an incredulous expression as Toby curled up between them.

"Three is a crowd?" Molly gave Sherlock a small smile as she scratched Toby behind the ears.

Sherlock rolled his eyes before moving onto his back. "I did say before that he wouldn't be allowed in the bedroom." He paused. "But ahh ... it's fine for tonight, not really, but I know that you'd be mad if I did remove him, so he can stay. But don't expect it to become a repeat occurrence, especially once you are fully recovered. I'm not one for engaging in voyeurism."

Molly couldn't help but laugh. "I must say I agree. Sex and cats don't exactly go well together. Too many moving objects; could bring about some swatting!"

Sherlock blinked, Buffering Mode making an appearance.

She snorted. "Bad visual?" she asked him.

He shifted slightly, grimacing. "Not the greatest."

She giggled, settling herself back down upon the pillows. Sherlock had set up a few along side her, to help keep her propped up and to prevent her from rolling around too much. She closed her eyes, letting out a rather loud yawn. Toby continued to purr. Sherlock watched her for a few beats, wondering to himself how he had managed to allow all of this to happen. He wasn't regretting any of it, it was just that when he allowed himself to fully think of what he was doing, what he had taken on; he couldn't help but be shocked. Molly shifted slightly, yawning once more, she opened her eyes slightly.

"Stop thinking Sherlock, it's much too loud."

He smiled, enjoying the fact that she was able to read him so well. She always had been able to see him, truly see him, when no one else could. He moved onto his side, making certain that he avoided touching the cat, before he reached across and stroked her cheek with his hand.

"Go to sleep Molly, you need your rest."

"Mmmm." She closed her eyes, letting out another soft noise as he continued to move his fingertips across her face.

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Sherlock awoke suddenly. He blinked the sleep from his eyes, wondering what it was that had pulled him from his slumber. Molly was still fast asleep beside him, her hand tucked beneath her chin, making her appear almost childlike. When he felt something flick across his curls he realized that that had been the very thing that had woken him up. He tilted his head back and saw that Toby had made himself quite comfortable upon his pillow. It was the cat's tail touching his curls. The feline almost appeared to be smiling smugly at him.

Letting out an annoyed huff Sherlock sat up and slipped out from the bed, careful to not wake Molly, before he grabbed a nearby dressing gown. He began to grumble beneath his breath when Toby followed him from the room. Sherlock's grumbling grew louder as he pulled his dressing gown more tightly about his body as he made his way down the hall.

Toby meowed as he rubbed himself against Sherlock's calves. He sighed as he moved into the kitchen knowing all too well that the cat wouldn't leave him alone until he had been fed. Once this was done Sherlock moved to put the kettle on, but stopped when he noticed a large tray that was on the kitchen table.

A pot of tea, two cups, a pitcher of milk, a bowl of sugar, honey and lemon, as well as a basket of muffins were on it. The teapot was covered with a cozy, and the muffins were wrapped in a towel, he could feel their warmth. How Mrs. Hudson managed to always have such impeccable time was something he wasn't entirely certain he would ever be able to fully comprehend. This somewhat bothered him, and yet also somewhat didn't.

With a smile he picked up the tray, after placing Molly's pill bottle on it, and carried it to the bedroom. She was awake, wiping the sleep from her eyes. Her hair was sticking up in all different directions, and he didn't doubt that his own (usually perfectly coiffed curls) were a mess as well. He couldn't care less. After placing the tray upon the bed he removed his dressing gown and slid beneath the sheet. Molly smiled at him, eyeing the tray happily.

"Compliments of Mrs. Hudson?" she enquired.

"Mmm. She may not be my housekeeper, but she does seem to want to help in taking care of you."

Molly blushed slightly, and sat up to allow her hair to fall forward in order to hide her pink cheeks. Sherlock swallowed as the sheet dropped away, revealing her breasts to him. What a sight! One he would certainly never grow tired of. He swallowed again, forcing himself to look away, before realizing that he hadn't helped her up.

"Molly!"

"Sherlock stop, I didn't strain myself at all, the pillows had me propped up enough I barely had to do anything at all to sit up."

He sighed, watching as she nibbled on a muffin. "Tea?" he asked her.

"Yes please. You know how I like it."

He smiled and prepared her tea. Molly watched him silently, gladly taking the offered cuppa when he was finished.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked her.

"Yes, very well! I feel a lot better. No where near as sore as I felt yesterday."

Sherlock had poured himself his tea and was now chewing on a muffin. "That's good."

Molly rolled her eyes. "Chew your food before you speak, silly! I don't think I'd be able to perform the Heimlich maneuver in my current state."

He smirked, but managed to swallow before saying, "I'm quite certain you'd be able to at least give mouth to mouth!"

She rolled her eyes once more. "Berk," she muttered around the edge of her cup.

His smirk widened. "Speaking of-" He set down his tea and cupped her chin in his hand so that he could tilt her head to the side, in order to enable him to capture her lips with his own. She sighed into the kiss, moaning ever so softly.

"Oh, I really can get used to this!" she said after he had pulled away from her.

He smiled. "Good. I meant what I said before; I want you here with me Molly."

She brought her hand up to the side of his face, before bumping the tip of her nose against his. "I know that you mean it Sherlock, and I am greatly considering it, you're not making it easy for me to say no."

His smile became a frown. "Are you intending to say no?"

She shook her head, putting down her cup. "I-I'm not sure yet. That's not a decision that you make straight away. It's a big step, Sherlock, to move in together. We've only just started ... _this_." She gestured at their two naked bodies. "This is all still so very new. I don't want to rush anything. Or risk making a mistake."

He leaned away from her. "You think that moving in with me would be a mistake?"

"NO! That's-that's not what I meant. I just don't want you to regret it ..."

His frown deepened. "Why would I regret asking you to live with me?"

She lightly wrapped her arms about her middle. "Living with John was a very big change for you. And you did so well, he helped to make you a better man. The man I always knew you could be. Living with me ... it would be very different from the way it was when you lived with John."

Sherlock studied her for a moment. "Different how? Because we would be sleeping in the same bed together? Because we would be having sex? Quite often, I hope."

Her cheeks flushed. "Yes." She was silent for several moments. "You enjoy your solitude Sherlock, you always have. I don't want to become a burden to you, a hindrance."

He let out a great rush of air. "Is that what this is?" He moved until he was kneeling beside her, so that he could wrap her up in his arms, and lean his forehead against the side of her neck. "I know that I am not an easy man to live with, John has made that very clear. And I did enjoy my solitude ... _did_ ... I don't anymore. Not since my two years away. I don't like being alone, because that's when my memories come back to me. I can't stop them, I've tried my hardest to delete them, but they won't go away. I crave companionship, ultimately yours. You calm me Molly, you calm my mind, in a way that no one else has ever been able to."

He paused a moment, taking in several gulping breaths. "When Moriarty came back, my first thought was that I had to make sure you were safe. I couldn't allow him to get to you. I would have never been able to forgive myself if he had done something to you. I despise being indebted to Mycroft, but it is thanks to him that you were kept so well hidden." Sherlock curved his body further into hers.

"I know that I'll upset you, say things to you that I don't really mean, or that I should keep to myself. I'll drive you mad with my endless experiments and my playing the violin in the middle of the night. But I also know that I'll try my hardest to make you happy, I want to make you happy. You deserve to be happy. You honestly deserve a far better man than I could ever be, but dammit I don't care anymore! I need you! I want you!" He was breathing heavily against her now; she could feel the rapid beating of his heart against her shoulder where his chest was pressed to her.

She slowly brought her hand up to his face, and he raised his head to look at her. His eyes were wild, desperate.

"I'm not saying no, and I'm not saying yes," she told him gently.

When he opened his mouth to protest she quelled him with a look.

"Let's just take this slowly, from day to day. All right? I believe you Sherlock, I trust you. Let's just enjoy this time that we have, right now ... ok?"

He sighed, looking down at the crumpled sheets, knowing that he wouldn't be getting a definitive answer from her, at least not at this moment.

"I'm sorry Sherlock; this is the best I can give you right now."

His eyes shot up to meet hers. "Don't apologize. You have every reason to be hesitant; I haven't exactly treated you well over these passed seven years, have I?"

She smiled warmly. "No. But you have improved a lot. Would you have ever contemplated doing any of this when we first met?" She gestured to the tray and the bed that they were sat upon.

He grimaced, his nose crinkling. "No. I would have scoffed at the thought."

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 **Oh Sherlock ... you have grown so much!**

 **So are you enjoying my silly little story? I hope so! :)**


	5. Mother Hen

**Sherlock's acting all grown up now, isn't he?! Haha.**

 **In all seriousness though, I really do feel that over time throughout the show he did change and become a better man.**

 **Were you upset by the lack of smut in the previous chapter?**

 **Perhaps this will make you feel better ;)**

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Part Five – Mother Hen

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Molly was near to her breaking point. Three days ago Dr. Wheaton had given her the go-ahead to return to work, not autopsies mind, but she could do stuff in the lab. Sherlock went into a strop the moment she had told him. He didn't understand why she wanted to return to work so soon. When she defiantly declared to him that she was returning to St. Barts and that there was nothing he could do about it he shut his mouth. But of course he still pouted.

The reason that she was now reaching her breaking point was because of the fact that he repeatedly found reasons to come to the lab. He would pop in periodically, five or six times throughout the day. And usually these had nothing to do with cases he was working on. John tried to put a stop to it, easily reading the exasperation upon Molly's face, but that was to no avail. Sherlock could not be stopped.

She tried to distract him with mold samples, and even a blood anomaly, but nothing worked. His full attention was fixed on her. He'd bring her coffee every day, not from the hospital cafeteria, but from the shop down the street. He made sure she was eating, and drinking enough water. He even went so far as to try and have John take her temperature. But John would have none of that. He silenced his friend with a look, then told him to leave 'the poor woman alone!' before leaving the lab, shaking his head as he did so.

After that Sherlock came to the lab alone, and Molly wasn't the least bit surprised. And when she realized that nothing would keep him from her she decided to just accept it, because having a concerned, Mother Hen Sherlock was rather nice.

But her resolve was quickly withering because of course it didn't come to an end when she got back to Baker Street. Oh no. He had her schedule memorized and always knew when she would be arriving. She could have sworn he had GPS on the car that would take her to and from work. As soon as she would enter the flat he would take her bag and help to remove her coat and scarf. Then he would begin his questions: 'Are you tired? Are you hungry? Any aches? Any pains? Would you like me to draw you a bath? How about a cup of tea?' He even attempted one night to cook dinner for her. This only occurred once though, seeing as it ended in complete disaster. It was strictly take-away from then on.

Molly told him repeatedly that she was perfectly all right, but the git refused to listen. So she had to allow herself to be coddled. And to be completely honest, it was rather nice to have him be so affectionate and concerned, for it increased ten-fold when they were alone in Baker Street. Even though she could clearly see that the fact that he hadn't had a good case, anything above a 6, in ages was making him rather restless. But even if a 9 had presented itself, she wasn't entirely certain if he would take it; especially if it required him to be away from her for a considerable length of time. A loud sigh escaped her as she came upon this thought, only for it to be broken by the sound of the said man's voice.

"You should take a nap." He was standing in the doorway of the kitchen, looking at her as she lay stretched out on the sofa.

Molly's eyes snapped up from her tablet, fixing upon him a determined glare. "I just got back, and I'm not tired."

He let out slight sigh. "You worked eight hours today. It would be good for you to do."

"Sherlock! I'm not five years old; stop treating me like I am!"

He crossed his arms over his chest. "Be that as it may, you are still healing, your body needs as much rest as it can get."

Molly rolled her eyes but knew that nothing she said would convince him otherwise. "How about I lie in bed and read a book? A nice simple one that doesn't require too much mental strain?"

Sherlock thought quietly for a moment. "I suppose that's better than nothing. I'd suggest one of those romance-things you enjoy."

Her eyes lit up with an idea. "You could join me. Perhaps read out loud to me? Then I won't be doing anything, just relaxing and listening to your voice." She tilted her chin so that she could look up at him through her lashes.

He swallowed. "Fine."

She smiled triumphantly. He walked over to her taking the tablet, and she allowed him to help her up from the sofa. They walked down the hall and when they entered his bedroom she sat down upon bed and stretched herself out, before gesturing to a paperback novel on the bedside table.

"You can read from that if you like," she told him.

He sneered as he looked at the title and cover. " _If You Dare_ …" he read out. With a weary sigh he got onto the bed and stretched out beside her. "You owe me one. I'm quite certain I am not going to enjoy this."

Molly snorted a laugh and settled herself back against the pillows. Sherlock opened the book at the spot where she had last stopped. He took another sigh before he began to read.

 _"Immediately Megan stepped to the other side of the couch and dropped her skirt to the floor, welcoming the cooler air on her thighs. Her panties followed, then her shirt and bra. No garter belt tonight, no stockings, just herself—her new city self—naked and open to him._

 _She couldn't wait._

 _An endless minute later, Ethan came around the corner carrying two glasses and stopped dead. For several seconds they stared at each other. Then Ethan's eyes made a leisurely tour of her body before they closed briefly, as if he were overcome._

 _Oh yes._

 _The glasses landed on the dining room table. Ethan strode to the front door, double locked and chained it, then turned back to Megan, eyes smoldering._

 _'Nothing is going to keep me away from you tonight.'"_

With a loud exhale, Sherlock stopped. "Good Lord Molly, you enjoy reading this shite?"

She giggled. "It's just for amusement. I know it's ridiculous! Please continue."

He grumbled, but did so. _"She waited while he put on a condom, then positioned herself so the tip of his erection pushed gently inside her. Rocking back and forth, she let his cock tease her, breath coming in little bursts as her desire climbed._

 _'You're so beautiful.' He stroked her breasts, her stomach, then his fingers found her clitoris, painted it in slow erotic circles."_ Sherlock stopped again. "I can't continue Molly, this is absolutely horrid, I practically feel my brain cells dying."

"Oh I don't know, I thought it was kind of hot!"

Sherlock fixed upon her a weary look. "Are you telling me that this turns you on?"

She bit down on her bottom lip. "Mmmm, not the book per se, more so the sound of your voice reading it!"

He tossed it to the floor and turned towards her. "I think I could put my voice to better use Molly!"

She swallowed then began to smile, an impish twinkle coming to her eyes. "I think you can put your lips to better use!"

He kissed her.

She frowned. "Not exactly what I had in mind." She directed her gaze further downwards.

He fixed a determined look upon his face. "No."

Her frown turned into a pout. "Please Sherlock?" She widened her eyes, knowing that he couldn't resist that.

He huffed. "Only if you behave."

She whimpered. "I will! I promise I will! Please!" She forced her body to be still to show him how good she could be.

Sherlock shifted until he was kneeling over her. "Don't move," he commanded.

"I won't."

He pulled her loose shorts off of her with ease, taking her knickers with them. He was greeted by the scent of her arousal, and felt his cock begin to harden at the sight of her folds glistening. He slid his hands up her thighs, and brushed his thumbs along the length of her seam, making them slick with her juices.

"Do you want me to paint your clit in erotic circles?" he asked her.

She shook her head, trying her hardest not to laugh. "No. I want your mouth on me."

He hummed in agreement, and slowly spread her apart with his thumbs. He had as of yet to taste her, and had often wondered how her clit would feel beneath his tongue. She was pink, shining and glorious. With one last final glance up at her, he moved forward and licked from her beckoning centre to her clit. She cried out, but kept her body flat upon the bed. He repeated his movements two more times, groaning at the taste and feel of her.

Taking her clit between his lips he lapped and suckled at the rosy bud before he slid first one, then two fingers into her. He placed his other hand on her hip, to make sure that she stayed still as he fucked her with both mouth and fingers.

She was soon a wailing mess. He could feel her inner walls clenching and unclenching around his fingers. He stilled their movements but kept them inside of her as her gave her clit one last suck. He then pulled away from her, slowly removing his fingers. She gasped for breath as she watched him lick his fingers clean.

"Than-thank you," she stammered out.

He smiled and moved upwards, cradling her head with his clean hand. "You're welcome," he said, before he kissed her, allowing her to taste herself on his tongue.

"I wish you would let me return the favour."

He shook his head. "Some other time." He kissed her again.

"I wish we could do more!"

He smiled. "We will when Dr. Wheaton tells you that we can."

Molly fixed upon Sherlock a quizzical look, making his erection begin to fade immediately. "Oh, so you'll have sex the moment he tells me we can, but you throw a tantrum when he tells me I can return to work?"

Two patches of pink appeared upon Sherlock's cheeks. "It was only because I got used to having you here. I don't like that you are gone for hours at a time!"

Her expression didn't change. "Possessive much?"

He swallowed. "I didn't mean for it to come out sounding like that. I worry about you Molly, constantly, all the time, do you have any idea how maddening that is?"

Her expression faded, changing to a sad one. "Yes. I do."

He exhaled slowly, knowing that she was referring to the time when he was away destroying Moriarty's web. Sherlock curled his body around hers, gently draping an arm across her. "I'm sorry Molly. I know that I've said this multiple times already, but … please forgive me."

She turned her head towards him, bumping her nose against his. "I do forgive you. You know I do."

He nodded; certain he would always wonder what he could have possibly ever done to deserve this woman. Suddenly the sound of her voice broke though his thoughts.

"Sherlock?" she repeated.

"Yes?"

"I think I'm willing to take that nap now."

He chuckled and sat up to pull the duvet over her. Once she was snuggled beneath it he lay back down beside her.

"Stay with me?" she asked him. "At least until I fall asleep."

He nodded, pressing a kiss to her temple.

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 **Hehe, was that good enough?! :D**

 **The book quotes are from an actual book, that I have NOT read but I searched for on the internet hahaha. I got them from a website called harlequin . com and the book is called If You Dare, and the quotes are from Chapter 15 - in case anyone was interested :-P**


	6. The Art of Consummation

**I SAW HAMLET LAST NIGHT AND IT WAS INCREDIBLE! I COULD GUSH ON AND ON ABOUT IT ... but I won't**

 **Heh ... well now ... if you aren't satisfied with the amount of smut in the fic yet,**

 **then ahhh ... read on, I think you're going to enjoy this chapter :D**

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Part Six - The Art of Consummation

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Molly left the hospital with an exuberant grin upon her face. The news she had received left her feeling light and free. She sent off a quick text to Sherlock, asking him how his case was going. She wanted to tell him her news, but didn't want to do it over the phone. It was something that needed to be said face to face, preferably when they were alone.

Sherlock replied quickly, telling her that he was nearly finished and that he would be back at Baker Street within the hour. Her smile widened further (she was bound to have an aching jaw eventually!) as she texted him back.

 _Good. There's something I need to tell you. I'll be waiting_. - Mx

Fifteen seconds passed before he sent back a reply.

 _You had a doctor's appointment today. Didn't you?_ \- SH

 _Yes_. - Mx

 _I'll be there within half an hour._ \- SH

She giggled to herself as she slid inside of the sleek black car. She settled back against the seat cushion, still smiling. Upon arriving at Baker Street she quickly showered, before slipping on the black negligee she had bought two weeks ago. She couldn't keep down the laugh that bubbled up from her chest as she admired herself in the mirror. Yes, she did have a rather morbid sense of humour, but she had had Sherlock more so in mind than herself when she had bought the negligee. This was due to the fact that it was covered in skulls. She let out another laugh as she smoothed her hands over the fabric, it was rather nice looking. It accentuated her body in all the right ways.

After giving her hair a run through with her brush, she stretched herself down upon the bed and waited for his arrival. This occurred no more than three minutes later. She could hear him practically bounding up the stairs, knowing that he had taken two at a time, which wasn't exactly much of a feat for the long-legged man! The sound of the flurry of him removing his coat and scarf met her ears, then the tread of his feet coming down the hall. The bedroom door slowly opened and he stepped inside. She watched as his mouth dropped open at the sight of her. She smiled up at him, a slow, languid smile. He swallowed and shut the door behind him before taking a step forward.

"Hello Sherlock."

He bound towards the bed, pressing her down into the mattress as he covered her body with his own, and kissed her. Molly giggled against his lips as she slipped her arms around him, hooking her leg over the back of his.

"Sherlock ..." she gasped out, "there's something I need to tell you."

He drew back slightly, stopping the trail of kisses he had begun to place down the length of her neck.

"I did see Doctor Wheaton today. He said that we could - that it's safe for us to - I'm fully healed Sherlock, you don't have to worry about hurting me anymore."

He stared down at her for few moments then kissed her deeply, settling his body against hers so that his straining erection pressed directly against her core. She moaned into his mouth, raising her hips. He was breathing heavily now, and holding her so close that she could feel his heart racing. She helped him out of his suit jacket then unbuttoned his shirt as he took care of the cufflinks. He kissed her again as soon as his shirt was off. She hooked her legs over the back of his thighs, raising her hips to press her groin to his. Sherlock slipped his hands beneath her negligee, pleased to find a lack of knickers.

"Mmmm ... wise choice Molly!" he murmured, as he brushed his fingertips across her already soaked folds.

She whimpered, clutching tightly onto his arms.

"I rather like the negligee as well..." he said to her, giving her throat a languid lick. "Skulls ... how appropriate!" He continued to stroke her, but was careful to avoid slipping his fingers between her labia.

A faint whine escaped her throat, followed by a giggle. "I knew you'd like it!" Her sentence ended with a moan, followed by another whine. "Please Sherlock!"

He chuckled, giving her throat another lick. "Not yet." He pulled his hand away from her, and she let out a noise of frustration. He sat up, moving to the edge of the bed and began to untie his shoes.

After Molly took in a few deep breaths she sat up as well, draping herself over his back, pressing kisses to his skin as he slipped off his shoes and removed his socks. He turned about, pulling her onto his lap, and they kissed. She cradled his head in her hands as his came to rest upon her hips.

"No pain?" he asked her, when they parted for breath.

She shook her head, toying with the curls at the nape of his neck. "None at all," she replied, sliding her hands down over his chest, gently tweaking his nipples before continuing down across his stomach until she reached his trousers. She quickly undid the button and zip, slipping her hand inside to give his cock a stroke, as his eyes fluttered closed.

When he grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand away she let out another giggle. He gently nudged her off of his lap. She stood, and he stood as well so that he could take off his trousers. Once this was done she moved closer to him, and he grabbed at the hem of her negligee, his thumbs brushing across the tops of her thighs. But when he began to tug the fabric upwards she gave a cry of dismay.

"Sherlock! No wait! It doesn't come off like that, you're going to-"

The sound of ripping fabric filled the room. Sherlock froze, an expression of fear crossing his features. He was certain he had just done something a Bit Not Good. "Mrs. Hudson can fix it!" he exclaimed.

Molly's face burned bright red. "Absolutely not! I'll fix it myself." She pulled the ruined negligee off and tossed it to the floor. "Later."

Sherlock swallowed as he took a step back, his legs bumping against the mattress. She was a glorious sight to behold, he could feel his cock pulsing. He took her into his arms and turned them about, so that she was now the one with her back to the bed. He nudged her down onto the mattress, stretching himself out above her. She bit down on her bottom lip, and the sight of this sent an ache through his groin. He wanted nothing more than to bury himself deep, deep inside of her, but he also wanted to lavish her entire body with the attention she deserved.

"Sherlock."

The sound of her voice broke through his rampant thoughts. It was husky, slightly deeper than usual. He felt another twinge in his nether regions. He met her gaze, waiting to hear what she had to say.

"Will you let me - you've done so much in taking care of me these passed couple of months, please let me try and repay you, at least in some way?"

He swallowed. "What do you have in mind?"

Oh her smile was wicked! He was certain he had just felt his cock give a prominent twitch.

"I want to put my mouth on you ... _everywhere_."

He swallowed once more. For a moment he had to recite several of the elements on the periodic table, being worried that he may just come right then and there at the thought of her mouth, her sweet mouth, on him. He nodded, unable to find his words.

Molly's smile widened, her eyes sparkling. "Lie down," she instructed.

He did so, taking in a deep breath. She was now sat beside him, and she chuckled softly.

"Just relax Sherlock, I'm positive that you will enjoy this."

He looked at her for a moment, then smiled. He felt strangely exposed, even though they had both been naked in each other's company several times already. A blush bloomed across her cheeks, he knew that she was thinking the same. She quickly straddled his waist, bending forward so that the rosy tips of her breasts very nearly touched his chest. Their lips met and he brought up his hands to hold her.

"Ah! Ah!" she said to him as she pulled away, grabbing at his hands and pushing them down. "No touching! Not for right now at least."

He pouted but dropped his hands to the mattress. She smiled once more before tipping her head to one said and placing her lips upon his jaw, just below his ear. Her lips traveled forward, placing kisses, moving across his chin before going down the other side. Her body slipped downwards ever so lightly, she was careful not to allow too much of her to touch him. She suckled at his neck, giving the freckle on his skin a slight nibble.

Molly continued to kiss her way down, pausing to give a few licks and bites. When she came to the great expanse of his chest she smoothed her hands across him, massaging his skin ever so slightly. He tucked his chin and looked at her. She smiled.

"I know you think that beauty is just a social construct, but to me Sherlock, you are beautiful."

She dropped her head down and took his left nipple in her mouth, toying at it with her lips, teeth and tongue before moving over to his right one. He was breathing a bit heavier now, his chest rising and falling like waves in the ocean.

She was straddling his knees, and continued her mouth's journey, the palm of her hands flat against his hips. Her hair fell over her shoulder and brushed across his erect penis, sending a nearly painful jolt through his body.

"Sorry ..." she murmured against his skin, just below his navel. She had pushed back her hair, giving him a moment to regain his control. After he had taken a few deep breaths she placed a tender kiss upon one of his scars, there were so many. Her heart almost always nearly broke at the sight of them.

Her hand was at the base of his penis now, not moving, but giving a slight bit of pressure. She nibbled at his hipbone then began to kiss her way inwards, moving towards her final destination. She glanced up at him, his eyes were closed tightly shut, his head tilted back into the pillow. His breath was coming in short, little gasps.

Situating herself a bit more comfortably, she hovered her lips directly against the base of his penis, before slipping out her tongue and giving him a quick lick. His entire body flinched. She chuckled and repeated her actions, this time being rewarding with a moan and a garbled gasp of her name. His eyes were open now and he was looking down at her.

With another smile that could only be described as wicked, she took the head of his cock and gave it a good, long suck. Sherlock swore loudly, and did so again as she took more of his length between her lips. Her hand was now wrapped around the base of him, giving his cock a few tender squeezes, and a slight pump as she worked her mouth on the tip of him.

"Molly!" His hands were tightly fisting the sheets. "Molly!" His tone was a warning one.

She released him from her lips with an obscenely loud pop. "It's all right Sherlock, I want you too. Just let go."

He groaned as she took him back in her mouth, giving him a hard suck. He was done for, hissing out her name, only to moan it a few more times as she sucked and licked him clean.

As his erection began to ebb away, she allowed him to slip out of her mouth. She gave his penis a few tender kisses before moving up the length of his body and collapsing beside him. Several minutes passed where neither one of them moved. Then suddenly Sherlock rolled onto his side and cupped the back of her head in his hand so that he could pull her to him and kiss her deeply. She sighed happily into the kiss, issuing a tiny moan as she felt him shift so that he was now above her.

"Your turn, Molly," he said to her, a wicked smile now upon his own lips.

"You don't have to-" she started to say.

His smile widened. "Oh but I want to!"

He gave her a gentle kiss before tipping his head to the side so that he could mouth at her jaw line. He nibbled at her ear lobe then began a path down her neck, covering her with open-mouth kisses. He kissed his way across both of her clavicles, suckling a mark on her sternum before coming to her breasts. He blew a breath across her distended pink nipple, a whine issuing from her lips. With a smile he took the nipple into his mouth and gave it a hard suck, she swore loudly as he swirled his tongue across her flesh. He covered her other breast with his hand, gently massaging her as he tweaked and rolled her nipple between his fingers.

"You have the most luscious skin, Molly. You taste like honey and lemons," he whispered to her as he switched breasts.

By the time he was finished, each of her breasts had a love bite and were glowing pink from his attentions. He mouthed across her ribcage, circling her navel before he came to her scar. It was still red and a bit puckered, but was healing well, she would only be left with a faint mark. He tenderly kissed around it, the scent of her arousal filling his nostrils. He wanted to taste her again, to feel her clit beneath his tongue, but the ache in his cock was impossible to ignore, he needed to be inside of her, _now._

He sat up, and she looked at him questioningly.

"I need to be inside of you, Molly!" he explained in a hoarse tone.

"Oh yes, please! Make love to me Sherlock!" she cried.

He positioned himself onto his knees, then slipped his hands beneath her thighs and raised them so that they came to rest on top of his. She was spread open beneath him, glistening pink, beckoning, just waiting to be filled. The head of his cock nudged against her clit, causing her to gasp.

"Please!" she moaned. "Oh please, oh please!"

He let go of one of her legs and grasped his cock in his hand, sliding it downwards until he reached her entrance. He slid in the head, groaning as he met a slight restriction. Oh she was tight!

"Fuck!" she whimpered as he slipped out the head, only to press it back in.

He repeated his actions, entering her a bit deeper each time, until he was able to at last slide into the hilt. He watched, in awe of the sight of his cock disappearing into her sweet, warm tightness.

"Oh fuck! Oh fuck! Oh fuck!" she cried, as she clutched tightly onto the bedsheets.

He pulled himself out slowly, his cock glistening from her juices. He knew he wasn't hurting her, he knew that she wasn't in any pain. He slid back in, allowing himself a groan as her walls hugged his cock. "Molly, Molly, Molly ..." he moaned, "You feel incredible."

"Oh Sherlock!" She grabbed a hold of his wrists. "Your cock feels so good inside of me. Please Sherlock, please make love to me!"

He did just that, unable to hold himself still any longer. He fucked her slowly, wanting to take his time; they had waited so long for this moment. There was no need to rush. With each thrust he filled her with his length, holding himself still before sliding out. Her breasts shook slightly each time that he entered her, and he watched them, fascinated by the sight. When he saw her hand drift across her stomach, not stopping until her fingers reached her clit, his mouth dropped open. She began to stroke herself, swirling her fingertips across the swollen nub.

"Molly!" he groaned out, quickening his pace ever so slightly.

He leaned back onto his heels, cupping her bum in his hands. The angle he was entering her now was entirely new, he could feel his cock brushing against her upper walls as he filled her.

"Sherlock! Fuck! Oh! Just like that! So good! So good!" she cried out as she continued to stroke at her clit.

"I'm close Molly," he groaned out. "I can't hold out much longer!"

"Oh, please don't! Come inside me Sherlock! I want you to come inside me!"

She moved her hand away from her clit, reaching out to him. She wanted him close to her when she came. He let go of her legs, not missing a single thrust as he leaned forward and their lips met. Her breasts brushed across his chest as the kiss grew in passion, all the while he kept his thrusts slow and languid. But when she lifted her legs so that her ankles came to rest on the cheeks of his arse he began to thrust harder, groaning at the new sensation, certain that he was entering her now even deeper.

The moment he felt her walls grow even tighter around him she cried out his name, her nails digging into his shoulder as she held onto him. He didn't stop his thrusts, even though she had become so tight it was near impossible to do so. As her orgasm began to ebb away he continued to fuck her, panting out her name with every thrust. Suddenly he felt as if his entire body had exploded in a surge of energy. Each of his nerve endings were like a spark that had come to flame. With a final thrust he pulsed inside of her, pressing his lips to hers, her name a gasp into her mouth. She cradled the back of his head, kissing him deeply before they parted, both of them breathing heavily.

He leaned his forehead against hers, and she smiled at him.

"That was worth the wait," she said softly.

He hummed in agreement, unable to form words as of yet. Instead he opted for another kiss as he gently slipped his softening cock from her body and moved off of her. Once he had laid down beside her, he felt some of his faculties returning.

"Are you all right?" he asked her.

Her smile widened. "Yes, I am more than all right, I feel wonderful."

They kissed again.

Some time later, after they had cleaned themselves up, they returned to the bed, both of them throughly exhausted. Molly had pulled the sheet and coverlet over them both, and they curled up together. Sherlock was running his hand over her body, drawing languid circles across her skin. His ministrations were lulling her to sleep. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

"Molly?" he questioned softly.

"Mmmmm?" she replied lazily.

"Would you like to go on holiday with me?"

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 **Yippee! They did it! HAHAHAHAHA ... errrr ... ahem ... heh ...**

 **Did you like it?! :D**


	7. Holiday in Dorset

**So Sherlock and Molly finally did the deed! -cackles-**

 **And now Sherlock wants to take her on holiday ... awww ...**

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Part Seven - Holiday in Dorset

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Both Sherlock and Molly were busy with their suitcases.

"How come you want to take me on holiday?" she asked him as she folded a blouse.

Sherlock continued placing items in his suitcase, his back to her as he answered, "Because we are finally able to enjoy each other sexually and I want to be able to do so without any interruptions. No cases, no Mrs. Hudson, no John and no Mycroft. Although it's because of him that I was able to get the place so ... I'll send him a large cake as a thank you."

Molly chucked a sock at Sherlock's head. He turned and gave her a derisive glare.

"So it's _that_ type of holiday," she said with a knowing smirk.

His glare turned into a wide smile. "Yes it is. I can assure you Molly, the majority of the clothes you're packing will not be worn."

Her own expression mirrored his. "Is that a promise?"

He stepped towards her, slipping an arm around her lower back. "Yes," he told her, before he dipped his head down and pressed his lips to hers. She crossed her arms over the back of his neck, standing on tip toe as the kiss grew in passion. When they parted Molly kept her arms about his neck.

"Are you going to tell me where you are taking me?" she asked.

"Dorset," he replied.

"Dorset? Why Dorset?"

"Because there is a place there that is both remote and private, and boasts spectacular views. Thought you'd enjoy that part. Also it's far enough, but not too far from London that we could return easily if something were to happen; such as you needing Dr. Wheaton."

"Which I won't," she declared firmly.

Sherlock shrugged, having learned that it was useless to argue with her about this.

"How long will we be away for?"

"A week. More if you want." He tipped his head to the side and began to leave a trail of kisses from her jaw to her neck.

"A week? I thought you meant for a long weekend! Sherlock I have work! I've had so much time off as it is!" Despite her protests she leaned her head back to grant him more access.

He nipped at her skin. "All has been taken care of. And that was medical leave, doesn't count."

She sighed, but didn't say anymore.

* * *

If flying on a private jet wasn't enough to make Molly feel a bit like a queen, when they arrived outside of where they would be staying she felt as if it were some sort of trick. This couldn't possibly be all for her.

"Sherlock!" she breathed out, slowly regaining her verbal faculties. "This is where we are staying?" She stood stock still, staring up at the short circular tower before them.

"Yep," he replied, popping the 'p' in his usual manner. "Come along, Molly."

She followed him, unable to keep her eyes off of the tower. She had never seen such a beautiful and unique structure. And what a location it was sat in! They were on a remote green cliff, that looked out to sea. Sherlock had been right, it did boast spectacular views.

"Molly!" he called out to her, making her realize that she had stopped to gawk.

She quickly hurried up to him and he smiled at her.

"I knew you'd like it."

She beamed. "Sherlock, I don't like it! I love it! Thank you for bringing me here!"

His smile turned into a cheeky smirk. "You can thank me properly once I've brought our things inside, and you've had a look about the place." He unlocked the door and they stepped inside.

The room was bright and cheery, the walls painted a soft yellow. A fire was already going in the fireplace, and the table had a bowl of fruit on it and a bottle of wine. The kitchen looked to be fully stocked. Just as Sherlock put down their suitcases, she turned and flung herself into his arms.

He let out an "Oooof!" then chuckled as he held her close.

"You're unbelievable! You know that?" she said to him.

A smile came to his lips.

"Don't answer that!" she said quickly, and he chuckled again. "What did I ever do, to deserve all of ...," she paused and looked about them, then returned her gaze to him, "...this?"

He held her a bit closer. "You put up with me, you want to be with me, you accept me for who I am and you don't try to change me. That's what you've done, and continue to do."

She kissed him, pouring as many of her emotions that she could into the kiss. "I do all of that because I care about you, Sherlock."

He leaned his forehead against hers. "I care about you too."

She smiled. "I know you do, you've proven that, time and time again over these passed weeks. I've never had anyone take care of me as well as you have done. You've spoiled me Sherlock ... and now with taking me here, I'm truly and utterly spoiled!"

"You deserve it, all of it. For all that you've done for me, saving me."

She kissed him again. "Where's the bedroom?" she asked, when they parted for breath some minutes later.

His eyes twinkled. "The next floor up."

"I think I need to take you to bed Mr. Holmes!" She grabbed his hand and led him up the stairs.

The moment that they reached the top step, Sherlock pulled her into his arms and kissed her. Their hands began to wander, tugging and pulling at each other's clothing. Within no time they were both naked and he guided her toward the bed. She laid down, expecting him to move on top of her, but he didn't. She looked at him questioningly. He smiled, and grasped her hips pulling her forward until her bum sat at the edge of the bed, as he stood in front of her. He then raised her legs, pressing them together before settling them both against his shoulder.

"Are you all right like this?" he questioned.

She nodded, her heart beginning to race in excited anticipation. His smile widened as he kept one hand on her thigh, the other he grasped around his cock and began to move the tip up and down her wet seam. Her circled her clit, a soft mewl escaping her, before he slid down to her centre and pressed in the head of his cock.

Sherlock swore loudly as he entered her slowly. "Molly, you're so tight like this!" He groaned, uttering another curse below his breath.

Molly was clutching tightly to the bed sheets as he thrust in and out of her at a near glacial pace. "Harder Sherlock, please! I want you to fuck me."

He took in a deep breath as he held onto her thighs with both of his hands and began to thrust into her as hard, deep, and as fast as he could.

"Yes! Yes! Yes!" she cried as his hips snapped against hers, his pelvis hitting her clit just right.

Suddenly he moved her legs away from him, not stopping his thrusts as he spread them apart, placing a leg on each shoulder. He was now entering her at a different angle, he moved his hands down to her bum and lifted her from the bed. She crossed her ankles at the back of his neck, her toes beginning to curl as he fucked her towards orgasm.

She cried out his name, her back arcing. He didn't stop his thrusts, holding tightly onto her until he too crashed over the edge. He held him self against her, his cock pulsing inside of her.

"Sherlock, oh Sherlock!" she whimpered.

When he saw that her eyes were glistening with tears, he quickly lowered her legs and pulled out of her. He climbed onto the bed, gently bringing her to the centre of the mattress.

"Molly?" He cradled her head in his hands, brushing away with his thumbs the few tears that had fallen. "Did I hurt you?"

She shook her head, sniffling slightly. "No Sherlock. You didn't hurt me."

He laid down beside her, looking her over. "Then why are you crying?"

She reached up and tugged him down to her, crashing their lips together. He still looked concerned when they pulled apart.

"I'm crying because of how you make me feel. No one has ever made me believe that I am as important, incredible, or desired in the way that you have. Sherlock you take me to heights I didn't even know existed. I'm so glad that we found each other, life would be a drab affair without you in it."

He seemed overwhelmed by all that she had just told him, and the orgasmic fug that his brain was still currently working through didn't exactly help. But she understood, she knew that he felt the same. She curled herself against him, and he laid his head upon her breast, the sound of her still-rapid beating heart, lulling him to sleep.

She gently moved her fingers through his hair, dozing off and on sporadically. The sun set, filling the room with an orange glow. Sherlock slept on. Just as night settled in, and the first stars began to appear, he rolled off her, onto his stomach. The glow of the moonlight from the open window made his skin appear to almost be glowing. She gently traced her fingers across his scars, wondering to herself how such a man that had endured so many terrible things, could manage to love her so sweetly.

Ever so quietly she got up from the bed and padded down the stairs. She unzipped her suitcase and pulled out a dressing gown. After slipping it on and tying it she looked about the kitchen. For a few moments she considered making a cup of tea, but then decided against it. She returned to the bedroom, noting that Sherlock had moved onto his back, nearly spread-eagle. Suppressing a giggle as a loud snore erupted from him, she moved towards a door that she quickly realized opened up to a balcony. She stepped outside, hugging the dressing gown close to her as the cool ocean air kissed her skin.

The sky took her breath away. Never before had she seen so many stars. The crescent moon looked almost like the Cheshire Cat grin. She leaned against the stone, looking out across the dark ocean. The silence was astounding. She felt incredibly small and insignificant, standing beneath such beauty.

Suddenly a pair of warm arms enveloped her from behind. She hummed, leaning back against him.

"You are not insignificant Molly."

She could feel herself blush. "How do you always know my thoughts?"

He pressed his cheek against her neck. "I'm in tune with them."

She smiled. "I don't know if I should be frightened, or impressed."

"A little bit of both perhaps?"

She laughed quietly. He slipped his hand into the front of her dressing gown and cupped her breast, gently massaging her nipple into a stiff peak. She moaned, feeling his erection hot and heavy against the curves of her arse.

"Can I take you like this Molly? From behind?"

"Oh fuck, Sherlock!" she gasped out, as he gave her nipple a tweak.

"Hmmmm ... I think that's a yes!" He pulled his hand out from her dressing gown and down to the knot she had tied. He undid it, slipping the fabric off of her. Now she was the one glowing in the moonlight. He pressed kisses to her shoulder, across the expanse of her back, nuzzling at the nape of her neck. His hard cock was between her legs, rubbing gently against her. He could tell she was already soaked for him.

He took her hands in his and placed them palm down against the cool stone. "Hold on," he instructed.

She gripped tightly, bending forward, her bum pressing back against him.

"Molly!" he groaned out. He rolled his hips, teasing at her clit before sliding inside of her. For a moment he felt as if his brain had short-circuited, the sensation of her surrounding him, from this current angle, was something entirely new.

"Ohhhhhhhh! Oh fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" she moaned.

Sherlock smiled, pressing his chest against her back, his hands moving up to cup her breasts. "Of course," he murmured, giving a slow thrust. "I should have deduced this sooner ... you enjoy being taking from behind."

She whimpered as he continued his slow, rhythmic thrusts.

"You like the thought of my bollocks slapping against your clit each time that I enter you? Don't you?" He gave a particularly hard thrust to put emphasis on his words.

"Sherlock! Oh my God!"

He could feel the heat from her blush. "No need to be embarrassed Molly. There's nothing wrong with revealing to me what you like and dislike sexually, I'd prefer you to let me know. And this won't be the last time that I fuck you like this, oh no, you feel too good like this to not want to do so again."

She moaned in response to his words. He let go of her breasts and took ahold of her hips, quickening his pace. The air filled with their moans and cries of pleasure, skin meeting skin. As she cried out his name it floated up into the air and faded away into the inky blackness of the night.

There was bound to be bruises on her hips tomorrow as he began to thrust even harder. When he felt her tightening around him once more, he felt a surge of pride rush through his body at the thought that he was capable of bringing her to a second orgasm, so soon after the first. He crashed over the edge, nearly roaring out her name as she came with him. She collapsed against the stone wall, her legs buckling beneath her. He held her tightly in his arms, murmuring words she couldn't comprehend, into her skin.

After a few more minutes he scooped her up into his arms, bridal style, and carried her back to the bed. They shared kisses, and hands wandered. They made love again, just as the moon was setting, slowly, their bodies close.

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 **eeeeee these two! guh ...**

 **Please let me know what you think! ;)**

 **Also, the place they are staying at is REAL! It's called Clavell Tower, looks like such a romantic place to stay -sigh-**


	8. Lesson in Cohabitation

**Enjoy that last smutty chapter, did you? hehehe**

 **I hope so.**

 **Does it continue on into this one? Read on and find out! ;)**

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Part Eight - A Lesson in Cohabitation

* * *

Molly was sat at Sherlock's desk, sun shining in through the window. She could see the dust motes dancing in the air. She reached back and pulled out the pen that she had stuck in her messy bun, bringing the capped tip to her lips. She nibbled on it, dropping her gaze from the dancing dust and back down to the paper she was looking over. Her brain couldn't focus though; she kept drifting back to memories of the week that she and Sherlock had spent in Dorset.

A sudden warmth pressing against her shoulders brought her to the present. Sherlock's laugh rumbled against her as he kissed her neck, just below her ear.

"You were very far away," he murmured.

"Yes I was. I was in Dorset."

"Mmmm. Good place to be." He nipped at her skin.

She leaned back into him. "Any place with you, is a good place to be."

He brushed his nose against her cheek. "Then you should move in with me. Permanently."

"It has been on my mind a lot lately."

He kissed her cheek. "Good. Keep thinking about it!" He was about to say more but his text tone pinged. He pulled his mobile out of his pocket and read the text. "It's from Lestrade. He has a case for me. Most likely a four, possibly a five." After sending a reply he pocketed his phone and returned his full attention to her. "Will you be staying in today?" He trailed his lips along the side of her face.

She turned towards him and their mouths met. "I was thinking of going to the park, it's such a nice day," she said to him, giving his lips another gentle peck. "I haven't had all that much fresh air lately." She fixed upon him a cheeky look, letting him know that she didn't mind in the least that he had kept her indoors for almost their entire holiday.

He chuckled, cupping her face in his hands before giving her a deep kiss. "I shouldn't be gone for too long, do you want me to pick up a takeaway?"

Molly shook her head. "We still have left-over's of Mrs. Hudson's Shepherd's Pie!"

"Oh right." He was still cradling Molly's head, his thumbs brushing over her cheeks. "Have the car take you please, don't walk to the park."

She rolled her eyes. "Ok, I know it puts you at ease."

He nodded, and gently kissed her. "I'll be back soon."

After Sherlock left, Molly stared down at the paper for several more minutes, before giving it up as a lost cause. She pushed herself away from the table and went to grab her trainers. After giving Toby a goodbye pat, she picked up her bag and made her way downstairs to the waiting car. She never had to inform them; they always seemed to know when they were needed.

She strode along one of the paths in the park, contemplating and pondering. Weighing the pros and cons of why she shouldn't and why she should move in with Sherlock. He had been so incredible to her over the passed weeks, it had amazed her how much he truly cared and wanted her with him. Their time together in Dorset had proved it even more, she hadn't ever expected him to be able to shut himself off completely from the world and put his focus solely on her. It had made her feel glorious, as if she were a goddess being worshipped.

It was foolish to put it off any longer; she had made her decision long ago, but hadn't fully allowed herself to accept it. But now she was going to.

Molly left the park, feeling as if a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders. The moment that she was settled inside of the sleek black car she took out her mobile and texted Sherlock, asking him how the case was going. She was almost at Baker Street when he replied. He told her that he was nearly finished, the case turning out to be a ridiculously easy four. Molly smiled as she read his text, quite glad to know this.

 _Does this mean you'll be coming back soon? I have something important to tell you_. - Mx

 _Oh?_ \- SH

 _I've made a decision_. - Mx

 _I'll be at Baker Street in fifteen minutes_. - SH

Molly chuckled to herself as she got out of the car and unlocked the door to 221. She ascended the stairs and quickly removed her jacket before hurrying down the hall towards the bedroom. She dropped her bag to the floor and quickly undressed. She took her hair out of its bun and ran her brush through it several times. After lathering on the honey scented lotion that she knew he loved so much, she worked it into her skin and walked back out into the sitting room. She sat herself naked, in his chair and waited.

A mere few minutes passed before she heard the front door open and his footsteps on the stairs. She stood and took a few steps forward, taking a steadying breath, never before had she been so bold. She could feel a flush traveling from the tips of her toes to the crown of her head. The door to the flat opened and Sherlock walked in, instantly seeing her.  
She watched as his mouth dropped open at the sight of her. She smiled at him, a cheeky twinkle in her eyes. He swallowed and shut the door behind him; the sound of the lock clicking rang out in the quiet of the room. He took a step forward.

"Welcome _home,_ Sherlock."

He stopped. "Home?" he asked, as if he wasn't quite sure he had heard correctly. "Do you mean-"

"Yes. _Home_."

Before she could blink he had rushed forward and enveloped her in his arms and kissed her deeply. She moaned softly against his lips; the sensation of his clothes against her skin sending a thrill through her body.

"Do you really mean it?" he asked between kisses.

She smiled. "Of course I do. It seems silly now to hold out any longer, I have no desire to return to my flat. I'm quite happy here, and I know that it's what you want."

He smoothed his hand over her cheek. "But is it what you want?"

"It is."

He kissed her again, another moan escaping her, before he shrugged himself out of his coat, allowing it to drop to the floor. Molly reached up to undo his scarf as they continued to kiss.

Once free of both coat and scarf Sherlock lowered himself to his knees, kissing his way down her body. He gave each of her nipples a hard suck before coming centred with her damp curls. Without warning he delved forward and began to lick her between her folds. Molly cried out, clutching tightly to the back of his head as he reached behind and cupped her bum. He massaged the tender flesh as he ravaged her clit with his mouth and tongue.

She let out a wild moan as she came, and he drank up the fresh flow of juices. When her knees began to buckle he caught her up in his arms and carried her to his chair. He settled her down and she leaned back, watching him breathlessly, and through heavy-lidded eyes, as he stripped.

As soon as he was naked he strode towards her, giving his hard cock a few pumps. Molly eyed it hungrily, but her gaze rose to his face when he asked her a question.

"Do you think you can stand?"

"Why?" she inquired.

He smiled, continuing to pump his cock. "I want you to ride me, have full control."

With a low whine she pushed herself up out of the chair. Sherlock, still smiling, took her place and sprawled himself out, his cock jutting out from his hips.

"Well?" he asked her, having released his shaft from his hold he beckoned to it.

Letting out a wild, desperate cry Molly climbed onto his lap, grasped his cock with her hand and sank down onto him. "OH!" Her head was tipped back, her eyes closed and her lips parted.

Sherlock's hands came to rest on her hips, watching her as she adjusted to his girth inside of her. She mewled softly as she began to slowly rock her body. She brought her head forward and opened her eyes, meeting his gaze. Their eyes stayed locked as she began to truly ride him.

As Molly's moans gradually became more frantic, and her pace began to quicken, Sherlock pressed the palms of his hands flat on her back, bringing her closer to him so that he could take a breast between his lips. Her moans grew even louder now as he suckled and bit at each of her nipples.

"Sherlock! Sherlock! Sherlock!" she whimpered.

When he slipped one hand forward, in-between their bodies so that he could touch her clit, she let out a loud, gasping, "AH!"

He could feel her walls convulsing around him. Her whole body shook as she came. After giving her clit a final swipe with his finger, he wrapped his arms around her, to hold her close as he thrust up into her to join her in orgasm.

Her breasts were now crushed against his chest, which he found rather delightful. He ran his hands soothingly up and down her back, murmuring to her. She hummed, snuggling against him.

"Bed?" he asked.

She gave another hum before tilting her head back and looking at him. "Our bed?"

" _Our_ bed."

* * *

Molly sneezed loudly as she shifted yet another set of books. The dust was becoming unbearable. It had only been a little more than two months, how could an unoccupied flat create so much dust? She sneezed again.

"Sherlock?" she called out.

"Yes?" he replied, his voice drifting out from her bedroom.

"You own a copy of _Gray's Anatomy_ , right?" she asked as she looked over the books she was holding in her hands.

There was a sound of footsteps, quickly followed by a pair of warm arms slipping around her waist. He nuzzled at her neck, peering down.

"Yes, I do own a copy of that," he answered. "But it's always nice to have more than one lying around. Keep it."

Molly tilted her head to look at him. "Are you sure? There's not a huge amount of space on your shelves as it is!"

He shrugged. "They don't all have to be shelved do they? There is the coffee table, my desk, and of course, the floor!"

She rolled her eyes but set the book aside with the other ones she was taking.

"So you really don't want to keep any of your furniture?" he asked her, leaving a trail of light kisses from her shoulder upwards to directly below her ear.

It was Molly's turn to shrug. "Not, not really. There isn't exactly any room for more furniture in your flat-"

"Our flat," Sherlock cut in.

She leaned against him, smiling. " _Our_ flat. None of my furniture is anything special; it's all just simple stuff from IKEA. And you hate my mattress. Oh, well actually there is one thing. It's just a small table. It was my dad's, he built it." Molly nodded her head towards a table that was next to her sofa.

Sherlock stared at it silently for a moment. "Well there you go, problem solved! You can put your copy of _Gray's Anatomy_ on that!"

She laughed, placing her hands on top of his. "What about the stuff in my kitchen? Cutlery and plates and all? There's a surprisingly decent amount at Baker Street, do we really need more?"

Sherlock didn't answer right away, being momentarily preoccupied with suckling a mark at the base of her neck. He gave her skin a final nip with his teeth, and made his reply, "Do what you like with all of that, but I do have one request."

"Oh?"

"Yes. Keep the cup that you would always give me when I would stay here ... you know which one."

Molly giggled. "The one with the bees?"

"Mmm." He had moved his mouth to another spot on her neck. "Care to christen the flat? We won't get another chance."

"Sherlock! I'm supposed to be packing!"

His hands began to travel downwards. "Are we on some sort of schedule that I'm not aware of?"

Molly huffed loudly but didn't put a stop to what his hands were doing. He had undone the button and zip of her trousers, slipping his hand inside. A happy growl rumbled up from his throat when he discovered she wasn't wearing any knickers. He dipped directly between her folds and began to stroke her clit.

"How do you want me to take you Molly?" he asked her, his voice thick with lust, as he continued to rub her clit in tiny circles. "Shall I fuck you from behind, while you hold on to your bookshelf?"

Her only answer was a low moan. She could feel him smile against her neck.

"Yes, you like the sound of that, don't you?" He pressed his hips up against her, so that she could feel his prominent erection.

She hissed out a breath. "You know I do!" she whimpered.

He gave her clit one final swipe with his thumb before pulling out his hand so that he could push her trousers down to her knees. "Bend over," he instructed.

She did so and he smoothed his hands over her smooth bottom. He quickly undid his own trousers, pushing them down just enough so that his cock was free. He could have teased her, dragged the tip across her already distended clit, but no, just the sight of her like this, waiting for him, surely aching for him, was enough to nearly send him over the edge right then and there.

Molly was already gripping tightly onto the shelf directly at level with her eyes, waiting in anticipation for the moment that he would fill her up with his cock. She mewled when she felt the head press into her centre, moaning loudly as he slid into her. The moment that he was fully seated Sherlock pulled back and gave a hard thrust. She cried out, clutching even tighter at the shelf, her knuckles white, as he began to truly fuck her. She couldn't help but love it when he took her like this, so hard and deep.

"Molly, my Molly!" he moaned out as he held tightly onto her hips.

"Yes Sherlock! Yes! Ohhhhh!" she wailed.

He had leaned back, in order to change the angle so that his cock hit her in just the right spot. She came, far quicker than she ever had before. He continued to fuck her through her orgasm, and only when her walls stopped quivering around him did he at last give one final thrust before coming inside of her. He pressed his forehead into her back, looping one arm beneath her to help hold her up.

After a few moments of recovery he straightened and slipped himself out of her. He dropped to the floor, pulling her down with him. She sighed as she leaned back against him, still struggling to catch her breath.

"That was wonderful," she said. "I think we may need to repeat that sometime at home."

Sherlock hummed in agreement, too busy once more nuzzling at her neck to make a verbal response. Some minutes later they managed to get up and make themselves decent.

By the time evening was setting in, everything that Molly wanted to bring to Baker Street was boxed and labeled. Mycroft would be having his men transport them, as well as getting rid of the furniture she wasn't keeping. The only thing that Molly took back with her that day was the table that her father had built. Sherlock had made a face, telling her it was a ridiculous thing to bring in a cab. The look she gave him though, silenced him.

They stopped on the way home to pick up a takeaway, settling down to eat at the kitchen table as soon as they returned. Molly was moving her Aloo Gobi about her dish, deep in thought.

"Sherlock?" she said suddenly.

He made a noise, having just taking a large bite of curry chicken.

"Now that I'm going to be living here permanently, can I, may I suggest some changes?" she asked cautiously.

He finished chewing and swallowed. "Changes, such as what?"

"Well ... this ..." she beckoned with her free hand at the table that was littered with failed experiments. "I didn't want to say anything before, because I was only a guest here, but now ...," she trailed off.

Sherlock laid down his fork and fixed his gaze upon her. "What exactly are you trying to say Molly? Do you want me to stop my experiments?"

She looked up at him, her brown eyes large. "No! That's not what I meant. I know how much you love doing them, I merely meant that perhaps you could try and keep a bit of a cleaner space. You always clean up at the lab when you're finished, why don't you do that here?"

He shrugged. "The lab is not my home, this is. I can't do what I want at the lab, but I can here."

She giggled. "The majority of the time you act like you can do whatever you like at the lab."

He smiled. "That's only because you let me!"

She rolled her eyes. "It would just be nice to have a cooking and eating space that isn't covered in mold specimens and Lord knows what else!"

He sniffed. "All of my experiments are safe Molly; I've been doing the dangerous ones in the lab. You know that."

She giggled again, leaning her head on his arm. "Yes I do know that."

After she had first been staying at Baker Street he had put a full stop to all of his experiments, in case he happened to do something that would possibly make her sick. Although the possibility was highly unlikely she had appreciated his concern. When she returned to work he had started doing his experiments at Baker Street again, working in the lab when he had an experiment to conduct on a body part or some such other substance.

"I'll - ahh - try my best to clean up after myself, uhm, keep my work to specific area of the kitchen," he said to her.

She turned her head and pressed a kiss to his bicep through his shirt. Her eyes flitted to the refrigerator. It was currently filled with only food, but she was certain that would not last for long. "Mmm, there's another thing. I think we should get another fridge, for you to keep the body parts I bring you."

He cupped her chin in his hand and raised her head so that he could press his lips to hers. He slid his hand from her chin, along her jaw line until it reached the back of her head. "You've been thinking about all of this for quite a while, haven't you?" he asked.

She nodded.

"You didn't have to wait until now to say all of this. You've been living here; you had every right to request these things of me."

She raised her eyebrows. "I did? When John had lived here, did he ask you to do all of these things? I wouldn't doubt that he did."

Sherlock snorted. "He did. And I duly ignored him. But that's different, he was a roommate. You are not my roommate." He slipped his arms around her waist, pulling her onto his lap.

She draped her arms over his shoulders, placing her hands on the back of his neck. "No? Then what am I?"

"You're _my_ Molly."

* * *

 **.**

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 **-flails- ... the things these two do to me, arghhhhh... haha!**

 **As always, please let me know what you think! :D**


	9. In Sickness and in Health

**I kind of feel bad for what I do to Molly in this chapter, but ...**

 **it does lead to some lovely fluffiness ... and maybe a teensy bit of smut ;)**

* * *

Part Nine – In Sickness and in Health

* * *

"Hoo! Hoo!" Mrs. Hudson's voice rang out as she entered the flat of 221B. When she didn't receive an answer she stepped further inside and began to look about. "Molly dear? Molly? Are you all right? I came to check on you because I didn't hear you moving about as you usually do." Mrs. Hudson moved down the hall towards the closed bedroom door. She knocked on it gently. "Molly?" she called out softly, a faint cough answering her.

Mrs. Hudson opened the door and peered into the gloom. There was movement from the bed, and when she saw her, Mrs. Hudson let out an audible gasp. "Oh Molly dear!"

Molly was pale, and her hair was damp with sweat. Mrs. Hudson rushed towards her, placing a gentle hand upon her forehead. She was burning up.

"Oh you poor thing!" Mrs. Hudson murmured.

She hurried towards the loo and quickly ran a cloth beneath the cold water. Molly let out a happy sigh when she placed the cold cloth upon her forehead.

"I'll call Dr. Stamford and let him know you're too ill to come in, and would you like me to call your doctor as well?" Mrs. Hudson asked her.

Molly nodded. "Don't call - please don't call Sherlock. I don't want him to rush home just because I'm ill. You know that he's away on a case with Wiggins and John; he doesn't need to be worried."

Mrs. Hudson frowned, certain that her tenant would not be happy that he hadn't been informed. "All right dear. I'll heat up some broth for you, and make you a nice cup of tea. You just lie here and rest." She left the room and made her way back downstairs.

Molly groaned and curled up on her side, covering her eyes with the cloth. She hated being sick, and the thought of Sherlock knowing that she was sick frightened her. She knew that his thoughts would first go to the possibility that she had some sort of infection from her surgery. The man may be a genius in other things, but in the medical aspect not so much. She was positive that she merely had concocted a virus, nothing more. She did work in a hospital after all, it was not an uncommon occurrence.

Toby strode into the room, glad to find the door open. He jumped onto the bed and let out a soft meow. Molly raised her hand from the bed and he hurried over to her, bumping his head against it as he began to purr. He then curled up beside her, his purring a comforting vibration against her.

Mrs. Hudson returned a short while later with the tea and broth. "Dr. Stamford was very understandable; he said that you were the fifth person this week to call in ill! And your doctor didn't seem too concerned, he just asked me to check your temperature periodically and that if it went above 39.4 to bring you to Barts." After setting down the tray she held up a thermometer. "Best to take it now before you eat or drink anything."

Molly removed the cloth and slowly sat up. Mrs. Hudson handed her the thermometer before fluffing up the pillow behind Molly so that she could lean in to it. She popped the thermometer into her mouth and closed her eyes, waiting for the beep that would tell her it was done reading. When it did so Mrs. Hudson took it and Molly flopped back against the pillow, her entire body aching.

"38.3," Mrs. Hudson told her. "I'll take it again in an hour or two. Now drink your broth and your tea and then you can take your paracetamol. And you should try to get some more sleep. Rest truly is the best medicine." She placed a gentle kiss upon Molly's forehead.

"Thanks Mrs. Hudson, you truly are the best. Even if you aren't Sherlock's housekeeper," Molly said to her.

Mrs. Hudson chuckled. "I'll come back and check on you in a little while dear."

Molly drank her broth slowly, the warmth of it feeling wonderful going down her throat. When she finished it she took the paracetamol and started to drink her tea. Suddenly her text tone rang out. Molly groaned, wishing that she had remembered to put it on silent. She leaned over and grabbed it. It was a text from John.

 _Mrs. H told me you were unwell. I let Sherlock know, sorry. I wasn't aware you didn't want him to be told. Expect a frantic call from him any minute now_. – JW

She groaned again as she sank further down into her pillow, clutching tightly onto her tea. "Damn it," she grumbled. She put the tea onto the side table and braced herself for the call. Within moments her phone began to ring.

"Molly? Molly are you all right? John told me you were sick!" His tone was panic-stricken, laced with worry.

"Sherlock I'm fine, it's just a slight fever. Mrs. Hudson spoke to Dr. Wheaton and he's not concerned. People at the hospital have been calling out sick all week. There's nothing to be worried about," she explained to him in a soothing voice. She heard him take in several deep breaths. "Please don't rush through your case on my account. I have Mrs. Hudson here; she'll take good care of me. You know that she will."

He took in another deep breath. "I'll try Molly, I will, but I can't guarantee anything. I don't like being away from you for so long. Will you text me to let me know how you're feeling? I won't text you first; I don't want to disturb you if you're sleeping."

"All right, I will. And please Sherlock, don't worry yourself, it's just a fever, nothing more. I'll be fine in a day or two."

He let out a slow and resigned sigh. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

Once they rung off Molly put her phone on silent and placed it down beside her tea. Toby raised his head and meowed softly, before laying his head down and going back to sleep. She finished her tea then snuggled back down beneath the covers, idly stroking Toby. Minutes later she was fast asleep.

The following morning Sherlock, John and Wiggins returned. Normally John would rush off home, but seeing as Mary had taken their daughter to visit his sister, he had no need to do so. Sherlock had entered the bedroom as soon as he got in the flat. He hadn't intended to wake her up, but Molly had sensed his presence.

"I told you not to rush through your case!" she reprimanded him.

He sniffed as he sat upon the bed. "I didn't."

She fixed upon him a pointed look.

"All right, so I did! What of it? I solved it, and now I'm home with you, that's all that matters." He reached forward and brushed his fingertips across her still-warm forehead. "How are you feeling?"

"Mmm, tired and achy. I'm glad you're here though."

He smiled. "You should go back to sleep. I'll still be here when you wake up."

She hummed in agreement, her eyes falling closed. He stayed there, watching her, until John stepped in and motioned to him. Sherlock stood and followed him out of the bedroom, closing the door quietly behind them.

"I'll stay up here, if you like," John said to him, "so you can go downstairs and have a bite to eat."

Sherlock nodded and made his way downstairs, joining Wiggins in Mrs. Hudson's kitchen.

It was only a short time later when Molly woke with a start. Her heart was pounding so heavily it felt like a lead weight in her chest, and her body was soaked with sweat. She knew that she had cried out; it had been such a horrible dream. She slowly sat up, gasping for breath as she pushed back her hair from her face.

"Molly?" John's head appeared around the door. "Are you all right?"

She took in a gulp of air, before shaking her head. "Wher-where's Sherlock?"

John stepped into the room and slowly approached the bed. "He's downstairs with Mrs. Hudson." He pressed his hand to her forehead, even though he knew what he would feel. "Molly you're burning up."

She let out a shaky breath. "Please, I need Sherlock."

With a nod he quickly left the room. She could hear his footsteps as he descended the stairs. Only seconds later the sound reached her ears of a different pair of footsteps racing up the stairs.

"Molly!"

She let out a whimper, cursing the tears that came to her eyes as Sherlock enveloped her in his arms.

"Shhhh ... I'm here Molly. You're safe." He pressed his lips to her fevered brow, rocking her gently.

She clung to his sides as if her very life depended on him, and perhaps in a way it did. As she quietly sobbed into his chest he took his mobile from his pocket and fired off a text to Wiggins, whom he knew was still sat in Mrs. Hudson's kitchen. Ten minutes later John quietly entered the room carrying a cup of tea. Their eyes met and John gave him a curt nod before setting down the cup and leaving the room, shutting the door gently behind him.

"Molly," Sherlock whispered to her.

Her crying had stopped; she was only sniffling from time to time now. He repeated her name, and she snuggled further into his chest.

"Molly, John brought you some tea, you should drink it, it will help you sleep."

She shook her head, her forehead rubbing against his shirt. "I was just asleep, I don't want to go back to sleep, not if it's to that!" she nearly wailed.

"It will help you not to dream, Molly."

She tilted her head back, looking up at him with glassy eyes. "You're drugging me?" her tone was an accusing one.

"Yes. You need your sleep, a restful sleep."

A few moments passed until she nodded her head in resignation. He took up the cup and handed it to her. She slowly drank it until it was finished. He took the now empty cup and placed it back on the nightstand. He then gently laid her down, before she proceeded to press as much of her body as she could up against him.

"Will you stay? I don't have nightmares when you're with me," her words were already beginning to slur slightly as she said this to him.

"Of course." He slipped his arm around her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head as she tucked herself beneath his chin. He listened as her breathing slowed to a steady, constant rhythm.

Suddenly her voice broke through the silence. "It was about Moriarty. The dream."

Sherlock's hold on her tightened ever so slightly. "I know."

Molly began to mumble incoherently. He brushed his lips against her temple, running his hand through her hair.

"Shhh ... go to sleep Molly. We can talk when you wake up."

* * *

It was nearing midnight when she woke with a jolt. She felt sluggish, her eyes heavy and dry. She let out a low groan, struggling to roll onto her back. Suddenly she felt a warm body press up against her.

"It's all right Molly," Sherlock mumbled sleepily, "I'm here." He helped her to move so that she could curl into him. He pressed his lips gently to her forehead as she let out a contented sigh. "Your fever is gone," he told her.

"Mmmm." She grasped tightly onto his shirt, after draping her arm across him.

He splayed his hand out upon her lower back then slowly moved it in a circular motion. She moaned softly.

"Shower?" he asked her.

She shook her head. "Requires standing."

"Bath?"

She nodded. "Bath."

He sat up and scooped her into his arms.

"Sherlock!" She giggled, clasping her hands about his neck.

He carried her into the bathroom and put her down. She took off her t-shirt and knickers as he filled the tub. Sherlock undressed himself, as Molly stepped into the water. She sighed happily, ending with a groan as she sank down into the warmth. He joined her, pulling her back up against his chest. He nuzzled at her neck as he crossed his arms over her torso. She leaned back, tilting her head to allow him better access, and he nibbled at her skin.

"Do you want to tell me about your dream?" his breath was warm against her as he spoke.

She inhaled deeply before slowly letting it out. "It always starts out the same way. I'm at the safe house, its dark outside. I'm walking down the hallway to go have tea with Miriam; we would always have tea at the same time in the evening. Sorry, I'm rambling."

Sherlock pressed a kiss to her shoulder. "Go on."

"I realize that the house is too quiet, and that puts me on edge. There is almost always someone watching telly, or George and Alan talking as they play a card game. I stop walking, waiting, listening to see if I hear one of my guards. My heart is beating so fast that I can barely catch my breath. And that's when I hear him. He's singing -" Molly's voice cracked, and Sherlock tightened his hold on her.

"I'm here Molly," he whispered gently to her. "You're safe."

She took in a shuddering breath. "He's singing _You're the One that I Wan_ t. It's from when we watched _Glee_ together. I never see his face, but I feel him. His hands are on me, tightly gripping my arms. And that's when it happens. He stabs me with a knife, directly into my side. I can feel that too. I can feel the pain of it. And that's when I start screaming. And he's laughing, laughing and laughing. I continue to scream and that's how I end up waking up." She was shaking now. "I know I'm being silly, and ridiculous. It's just a dream. He never did find me, he never did hurt me. But I can't help but be affected by it, it seems so real."

Sherlock gave her hips a slight tug and she knew what he wanted her to do. She shifted her body so that she was facing him before pressing her breasts to his chest, and slipping her arms around his waist. He cradled her close, laying his cheek against the top of her head. "You're not being silly Molly. Not in the slightest. I've had a fair share of haunting nightmares. You have nothing to be ashamed of."

She snuggled further into his chest. "Do they ever stop?"

He sighed, his breath tickling across her hair. "I don't know."

They lay like this for several minutes. When the water began to cool, Sherlock turned the knob for the hot water and refreshed the tub. As the warmth swirled around them he gently tipped her head back and gave her a kiss.

"Sherlock," she admonished, "you shouldn't kiss me. You'll make yourself get sick!"

"Don't care," he muttered before kissing her again.

She whimpered softly against his lips, kissing him back. "I wish I had the energy to do more," she said to him as she laid her head back down onto his chest. She could feel him hardening beneath her. "I've missed you so much."

He rocked his hips up against hers, allowing his cock to brush up against her folds. "You'll be well soon enough. I've missed you too."

Molly let out a muffled curse as he continued to gently rock his hips, his cock nudging itself between her labia. She mewled as she rolled her body to match his movements. Sherlock groaned, kissing her deeply as he continued to slowly move beneath her. She cried out against his lips as the head of his cock slid across her clit. It only took several more strokes, her entire body shaking as she came. She slipped her hand between them and wrapped her hand around his shaft giving him a few pumps. He hissed loudly, before moaning out her name. They lay there silently, catching their breath.

"I've made the water all filthy," he grumbled.

She laughed as she leaned back. He sat up and undid the plug, letting the water drain out.

"Will you be all right standing? I can hold you," he said to her.

She nodded and he helped her to her feet. He slid his arms around her, locking them behind her lower back, as she placed her hands on his hips. She tilted her head and stared up at him, smiling lazily.

"I love you Sherlock."

He bumped his nose against hers. "I love you too."

This was the first time they had verbally acknowledged their love for each other; they had only shown it through their actions. She continued to smile up at him as he leaned his forehead against hers.

"We should get ourselves cleaned up," he stated, but didn't move.

"Mmm ..."

They stayed like this for a few minutes more before Sherlock reached behind him and turned on the water. Molly let out a slight shriek as the water cascaded around them, cold water.

"Sorry," he mumbled as he turned the knob towards the heat.

They washed each others hair, and by the time they stepped from the shower fresh and clean, Molly was ready to lie back down. She slipped on one of his dressing gowns and Sherlock scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the sofa. He heated up a bowl of soup for her and made some toast. While she was eating he went into the bedroom and changed the sheets. By the time he returned to her she was fast asleep, snoring softly. He smiled as he looked down at her, wondering how he had managed to deserve this woman's love.

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 **SO. MANY. FEELS.**

 **These two give me SO MANY FEELS! -flops over-**

 **heh ... hope they do the same for you ;)**

 **Only one more chapter to go :O**


	10. The Final Problem

**Alas -sniff- we have come to the final chapter :(**

 **I hope you all truly enjoyed this journey that I have taken you on :)**

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Part Ten - The Final Problem

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They were both sat at the kitchen table. Molly at one end with a large pile of papers and her laptop, and Sherlock at the other, surrounded by various beakers, two Petri dishes and his microscope. He was looking through the microscope, adjusting the knobs.

"Molly?"

"Mmm?" she answered him absent-mindedly, not looking up from her papers.

"I think we should get married."

Molly's pen dropped from her fingers, her eyes snapping up to look at him. "Wha-what?"

He didn't move from the microscope. "You heard me."

She blinked. "I thought you didn't believe in marriage."

He made a noise in the back of his throat. "Beliefs can change."

Molly swallowed. "You really mean it then."

Sherlock leaned away from the microscope and looked directly at her. "Of course I mean it. I love you; you love me, why shouldn't we get married?"

She licked her lips. "Do you have a ring?"

He appeared to have been briefly distracted by the sight of her tongue moving across her bottom lip. He blinked rapidly before he returned his gaze to her eyes. "Of course I have a ring. I've been carrying it around for weeks." He slid his hand into his pocket.

"You have?"

"Yes." He pulled out a small black box and stood. He stared down at it for a moment before moving towards her. He looked at her from beneath his eyelashes. "Would you like me to kneel?"

She giggled and shook her head. "You don't have to."

He opened the box and held it out to her. Her mouth dropped open when she looked at the ring. It was beautiful, most certainly an antique. It was delicate and small, perfect for her hand, as if it had been made just for her. Sherlock took a step closer, slipping the ring from the box. He closed it and sat it down upon the table before reaching out and taking her left hand in his.

"Molly, I'd never make a promise to you that I couldn't keep, so I won't promise you that I'll be the perfect husband; we both know that that won't ever happen. But I will promise you this that I will _try._ I want to be married to you; I want to call you my wife. I want to share everything with you, including my last name. But I think you should keep the Hooper, Hooper-Holmes has a nice sound to it..." He paused to take a breath but when he was about to continue Molly threw herself into his arms.

"Yes! Yes! Yes Sherlock! Yes, I'll marry you!" she cried.

He chuckled as he reached around to grab her left hand again. He slipped on the ring, then gently cradled her head in his hands and kissed away the two tears that had begun to fall down her face. She smiled up at him, her heart feeling as if it may swell and burst with the amount of love she felt for this man.

"I adore you, Molly."

Her smile widened. "I adore you as well."

They kissed again, it quickly growing in passion. Sherlock lifted up her petite form, settling her down upon the one bare space on the table. Hands began to wander as they slowly undressed. Fingers stroking and tweaking, soft moans and happy sighs escaping between lips as they eventually both became naked. He slid in to her with ease, holding himself still once he was fully inside of her wet warmth.

"Sherlock ...," she breathed out softly, "I love you. I love you so much!"

He began to thrust, keeping his movements slow and rhythmic. "I love yo-AHH!-"

She had slipped her hand beneath him to cup and caress his bollocks.

"I love you too!" he gasped out, ending in a groan as she continued to work her fingers on him.

He placed one hand on the small of her back, the other holding tightly onto her hip, her ankles pressing against the curve of his arse. Dipping his head down, he took one rosy nipple between his lips, continuing his slow thrusts, as he suckled and bit at her tender flesh. He switched to her other breast, her moans reverberating directly to his cock that was entering her again and again. She had let go of his bollocks in order to place her hands flat onto the table.

Sherlock released her nipple and leaned back slightly; stilling his thrusts he pulled out of her and teased at her clit with the head of his cock, circling it. Molly threw her head back, her lips parted as she mewled quietly. He gave her clit a few more strokes before sliding back in.

"Oh fuck me Sherlock, please fuck me!"

He didn't need to be told twice. He took a hold of her hips and began to thrust into her hard.

"Oh God! YES!" she cried.

He was filling her so deeply, and she was moaning uncontrollably.

"Kiss me!" she whimpered.

He slipped his hand around to her back, pulling her close up against him as he continued to thrust. Their lips crashed together in a sloppy, passion-filled kiss. She cried out into his mouth, her orgasm washing over. He gave three more thrusts, pressing his forehead into her shoulder as he came. She held onto him, placing light kisses to his skin as they both slowly recovered from their orgasmic highs.

"Say it again ..." she murmured to him. "Ask me."

He was nibbling on her neck, breathing heavily, but stopped when she spoke. He slowly raised his head so that he could look down at her. "Will you marry me?"

She smiled slowly. "Yes."

He kissed her sweetly, cradling her body close, his softening cock still inside of her.

"Sherlock!" she giggled out his name. "What are you doing?"

He had lifted her off of the table and was walking out of the kitchen. "I'm taking you to bed. We're not done celebrating."

She giggled again, tightening the hold of her legs around him. Upon entering the bedroom he kicked the door shut behind them and gently laid her down upon the bed. He quickly covered her body with his own and kissed her once more.

"There's something I need to tell you," she spoke softly, "since you don't seem to have deduced it yet."

Sherlock stopped the path of kisses that he had begun down her throat. He moved until their eyes could meet.

"I'm pregnant."

Sherlock stared at her, his expression entirely blank. He had entered into full-blown Buffering Mode. Several minutes passed in silence.

"Yeah ... I can see now why John considers this to be a bit scary." She breathed out, patiently waiting for him to come back to her.

"So what do you think?" Sherlock said suddenly.

She blinked at him. "Think about what?"

"About what I just said!"

She bit down on her bottom lip. "Sherlock," she spoke gently, "you didn't say anything out loud."

He deflated. "Damn it. Done it again."

She giggled.

"Well ... I ... ahhh - I don't think I'll be able to reiterate word for word what I - ahh - said to ... myself..." he spluttered out.

She ran her hands up and down his arms. "Summarize then, perhaps?"

He nodded. "I think we should get married as soon as we can, and I'm not saying that because of the baby, I was going to suggest it regardless. But now that there is a baby on the way, I think it would be best if we do marry soon, so that we could go on our Sex Holiday."

She laughed. "Is sex all you ever think about?"

"No." He pouted. "I think about you mostly, which ... eventually leads to me thinking about sex."

She laughed again, moving her hands up his arms until she was cradling his face. She tilted him downwards and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "I think about you a lot too."

He smirked then his expression softened as he raised his head. "We're having a baby."

She nodded, smiling. A sudden flash of fear crossed over his face.

"I didn't hurt you, did I? I didn't hurt the baby? I got a bit rough at the end."

She chuckled, crossing her arms over his shoulders so that his body pressed closer to hers.

"You didn't hurt me, and you didn't hurt the baby. We're both fine. Now kiss me, please."

He did just that, slipping one of his hands down between them to brush his fingertips over her abdomen. When they parted he pulled away slightly to look at her stomach, still running his fingers across her.

"We're having a baby," he repeated, and she covered her hand with his. He looked up at her. "Do you think I'll be a good father?"

With her other hand she cupped the side of his face. "You'll be a wonderful father! Look at how well you've taken care of me over these passed few months!"

He smiled, keeping his hand on her stomach as he shifted slightly so that he could lay on his side. "Our child will certainly be an intelligent one!"

She hummed in agreement. "Don't think for a second that you'll be able to conduct any sort of experiments on them though!"

"Molly!" he exclaimed, looking affronted. "I would never do that. Have I ever experimented on John and Mary's child?"

"No," she replied with a cheeky smirk. "But that's because Mary is a former assassin and would more than likely castrate you, if you did."

He grimaced slightly. "Point made." He splayed his hand out on her stomach.

"Do you want a boy or a girl?" Molly asked him.

Sherlock moved closer, brushing the tip of his nose along her jaw line. "Doesn't matter. I would be happy with either, the only thing that does matter is that the child is healthy."

Molly turned her head and pressed her lips to his. "I feel the same."

"Let's get married tomorrow," he said to her.

"All right."

He smiled, gently moving his fingertips over the smooth expanse of her abdomen. Molly looked at him, her own expression mirroring his as she began to mentally prepare herself for the coming months, knowing all too well that she was going to have to endure more coddling and fussing from him. Her smile grew larger as she reached up and brushed his curls back from his face, accepting the fact that she honestly wouldn't want it to be any other way.

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 **TA DA! -wipes away a few tears- The End -sniffle-**

 **I truly hope you enjoyed it. And at the moment I have no intention of continuing this fic ... but I'm not promising anything negatively or positively in that respect ;)**

 **Please do leave a review! :D**


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